Veritas
by Alamo Girl
Summary: The truth can set you free, and also make matters much worse! Lois and Clark must decide if they've chosen their own fate, or if Fate chose for them, as a new evil decends on the city. Post SR.[CH 12 Up!]
1. Scratch

**Disclaimer**: _Superman_ and all its subsidiary characters are the property of DC Comics, Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel. _Superman Returns_ is by Mike Dougherty, Dan Harris and Bryan Singer. I claim no rights, only borrowing for the purpose of entertainment.

**_Author Note_**: This takes place after the _Superman Returns_ movie. Like everybody else, I think there is more to be done, and they left the ending so deliciously open for further interpretation. To try to set this story apart a bit, I'm going to pick up with fact that Lois knows she and Superman obviously had a relationship – one she can't remember. And she's NOT a happy camper about it. She must decide what place Superman has in her life, (if any…beyond being 'hero'), where her heart lies, and how to get over betrayal. Superman must find a way to tell her what happened, WITHOUT revealing his secret identity to her. (I'll work on that bit about IDs later in the story). Added into the mix is a new baddie, one with bizarre goals in mind. (What villain for a superhero story wouldn't be bizarre?) Special thanks to Barbara (**htbthomas**) for reading over the chapter for me!

Please let me know how I'm doing, this is my first foray into writing for superheroes! Push that little review button and feed the need! Enjoy!

**Veritas**

**Chapter 1: "Scratch"**

Metropolis summers had never been exactly something wonderful to write home about. At least, no more than the ubiquitous weather reports about the temperature and humidity climbing to uncomfortable heights – and why there always seemed to be a timely shortage of window AC units in the city. Lois Lane had never given the Metropolis weather much thought, except to worry that her small son, Jason, might get overheated while playing in the yard of their riverfront house.

Living on the riverfront, away from the melee of traffic and city noise, did have its advantages. The sound of the water gently lapping against the boards of the deck, the slight chirping of the first birds of the morning – were all things Lois had become acutely aware of since she'd moved out here with Richard. Had she been in another frame of mind, Lois might have simply dismissed these sound experiences away as the result of being 'out in the sticks' – or the closest thing to it. But now, after spending the entire night standing out on the deck of her fiancé's house, having watched the form of a certain 'man in blue' fly out of sight – all the sounds of early morning nature strangely comforted the reporter.

A warm summer breezed wafted across the water. Lois stared down at her hands, turning the smooth form of the cigarette lighter over and over in them. When had her life - which at one time, had been successful and relatively ordered – been thrown into the blender with the _purée_ button jammed?

"How did this happen?" Lois muttered under her breath, staring down at the water. A tiny niggling fear in her brain hoped the resident hero wasn't using his super-hearing at that moment.

But talking out some of the raging emotions cluttering and stalling her usually razor sharp brain, felt good. She'd spent the entire night thinking about everything, about all her choices and feelings – and frankly, it was getting too crowded inside her head. Which, ironically, was starting to throb with a vengeance.

Running a hand through her hair and massaging her temple for a moment, Lois noticed that the sky was lightening to an orange hue. It was beautiful, and though she knew, the despite the night's events, her workday was about to begin, Lois smiled faintly at the dawn. The tops of the clouds remained a brilliant blue, as the sun's rays had not yet dowsed them – and Lois' smile faded.

The same blue as in _his_ eyes.

She crossed her arms over her chest, setting her jaw. _Why can't I remember anything about us?_ _Obviously_, something _happened_…

She chewed her nail at the thought that she and Superman…had…well…been _intimate_. That was certainly something she would remember!

Wouldn't it?

_Then why can't I? Why can't I remember one of the most important nights of my life… with a man I lo-…_ She cut her thought off there.

She'd denied to Richard that she had been in love with him five years ago. She'd denied it to herself even, as she received the Pulitzer Prize nomination for a story she'd written when loving Superman was the last thing on her mind. How could she love a man who'd abandoned her…and the world? Selfish though it may have been, it stung more to think that he'd abandoned _her_, more than the masses.

Richard's sea plane was tethered off the dock, the hull groaning slightly as the waves passed under it. Lois glanced over at it, the pontoons battered and marred from their adventure to the kryptonite continent to save Superman. He'd literally flown back into her life, and she silently damned herself for allowing all those emotions to wash over her so easily.

_Like some stupid schoolgirl, you went goo-goo eyed for him after one flight, one time in those arms. After you told yourself he was out of the picture. After Richard came into your life…raised your son with you…_

As if on cue, the kitchen lights flicked on. Richard was busying himself with coffee for him and Lois, and breakfast for the munchkin. It was such a normal, everyday routine. But Lois' hand flew over her mouth, as she fought back sudden tears. No one would think anything of such a normal family, doing normal things like fixing breakfast – only there was nothing normal about this family.

_He's not Richard's. He loves that child as his own…always has, and now you find out that it's been a lie. How can you ever tell him? Do you tell him? How do you explain something when…_ Lois lowered her head, the palm of her hand pressed angrily against her forehead.

"How can I explain something when _I_ don't even know how the hell it happened?" Her voice was a harsh whisper.

Inside, she heard Richard calling to Jason upstairs – his Wheaties were going to get mushy soon if he didn't hurry. Swallowing thickly, Lois forced her feet to start walking back to the house. She'd always prided herself on being on top of everything, having a dozen different ideas for every situation ready and waiting.

She'd never been so confused – or frustrated, in her life, as she was that moment heading back into her house.

Richard opened the back porch door, two cups of coffee in his hands. "Hey. I must have been sleeping the sleep of the dead for _you_ to beat me up this early."

"We've all had a long couple of days," she replied tiredly, accepting one of the cups.

Richard gave her a half-smile, guiding her back into the house, "No kidding. Earthquakes, flying continents, superhero saving. Its no wonder I slept so hard." He looked down at Lois, watching her nurse the coffee in her pale hands. "You should call in, take the day off to rest, you know."

Lois gave him a look that said, _oh yeah, right. Are pigs flying now too?_

"Okay, okay. Stupid suggestion. You never take a day off. Especially with Superman's recovery and all," he chuckled.

Lois hid the unbidden bristle the mention of Superman's name wrought. An image of the Man of Steel, hovering over the water in front of her house a few hours before, came back to her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but he didn't seem all that surprised at finding out he'd fathered a son.

_It sure shocked the hell out of me_, she thought. Even though he'd obviously heard her bedside confession that she suspected Jason was his, she would have thought he'd have been a little more perplexed by the discovery.

_If something happened to both of us, and neither one of us remembered the relationship…shouldn't he be as screwed up about this as I am? Superhero or not?_

"Yo – Lois! Earth to Lois!" Richard sounded like he'd been talking to her for a few minutes, only getting a thousand-mile stare in response.

"Hm? Oh, geez…sorry, Richard. The caffeine hasn't kicked in I guess."

Richard smile gently back at her, as if he figured she was much more physically wasted than he'd thought. "I was saying that I'll take the munchkin in to school for you, if you want."

Lois looked over at her son, who was munching his cereal and doodling on a scrap of paper. He looked up at his mother and beamed a milk-mustache smile.

"That's fine. I have to get into the _Planet_ early anyway," She said as she ruffled her son's hair and planted a kiss on the crown of his head. She glanced down at the drawing next to his bowl. It looked like their house, a bit lopsided, but the resemblance was there. It showed a tiny stick figure of a boy, leaning out his second floor window and waving at another figure floating in the air. A rather conspicuous figure, complete with cape, boots and 'S' emblazoned on his chest.

Jason grinned at his mother, as if he was sure she'd recognize the scene. What he didn't expect was the look of pain on his mother's face – as if the picture had reached up and scratched her across the face.

"Mommy?" Jason asked, confused.

Lois blinked. She was reliving the scene all over again, still trying to read the emotions in Superman's face. Her son was enamored of him, no doubt – _and why shouldn't he be, being his blood…and all that!_ – but she couldn't deny the fact that the Man of Steel's face held nothing of the shock and confusion she felt sure he _should_ be feeling with this discovery. So what was the deal? A small spark of indignation lit in the back of the astute reporter's mind.

_He's hiding something._

At the feeling of a small hand tugging on her robe, Lois refocused on her son. His blue eyes were luminous, a little worried.

"That's a great picture sweetie. We'll put it up in your room later, but now you'd better scoot. Daddy's…" her mouth went cotton dry suddenly, referring to Richard as 'daddy'. She recovered lightning fast, "Daddy's bringing you to school."

She mentally kicked herself, as she began her monotonous morning routine of getting ready for work. Why should she suddenly feel odd using _daddy_ to refer to Richard? For all intents and purposes, he _is_ Jason's father. _If not biologically_…

The more she thought about Superman, the more frustrated Lois became. Driving to the _Daily Planet_, signs and billboards proclaiming the hero's miraculous recovery were splashed on every bus and walkway. Every picture fed Lois' vexation.

If he wasn't surprised that they had conceived a child, then that must mean he had known about it from the beginning. Lois whipped her sleeve back, a little harder than needed – checking the time, as the cab she was in was stalled in morning commuter traffic.

_He knew! Whatever it was keeping her from remembering didn't seem to affect him!_ She reminded herself not to grind her teeth, as she considered bailing out of the cab and walking the rest of the way. Finally she gave in, threw some money at the cabbie and hauled her briefcase and herself out of the cab. It was still a good six blocks to the _Planet_, but maybe the walk would do her good.

The confusion that had been milling in the pit of her stomach was blooming into anger, stinging and burning like a fresh cut. She was an 'Ace' reporter after all…and this was one conundrum she intended to attack with force.

Face to face.

-------------------------

Across town, the morning rays of sunlight filled the ornate office in amber-gold hues. It was a spacious room, most would be happy if their entire apartment held the square footage of the twenty-fifth floor office. The floor was rich red maple, lacquered to a gleaming finish – on the jade-green walls hung paintings that the Metropolis Museum of Art would envy. One wall was nothing but book cases, filled with manuscripts, ancient and new. A desk roughly the size of a small boat filled one side of the room, backlit by floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything screamed wealth and sophistication – the air was only heightened by the young man standing at the window, in a three-thousand dollar suit, coffee in hand.

"I have those quarterly figures, Mr. Darius." A middle-aged man, with a high forehead, light brown, wispy hair and thin wire glasses entered the office. He too, was dressed in Wall Street's finest attire, though he didn't carry it with the easeof the younger man. He glanced at the portfolio before he placed it on the behemoth desk. "Looks like the Sheik of al Qasim has granted the drilling rights to us for the land near his little village none too soon. It could become a 500,000 barrel a day operation. If the political stability holds out."

The younger man turned, the sun lighting his blond hair like a halo. His eyes, the color of faded dollar bills, flickered genially, as he smiled at his assistant. "C'mon now, Marcus. Since when are you the pessimist?" Darius strode over to his desk, placing his cup down to continue perusing the front page of the _Daily Planet_, in his other hand. "I think it's a minor miracle, what with all the upheaval in the Middle East right now, that we were even able to get this contract signed. With our unending need for oil over here, even the smaller operations in the less important towns and villages have to be tapped."

Hamill shrugged, "You contracting to build a new regional hospital there, to serve the surrounding communities didn't hurt matters much."

His boss, Lucius Darius, bestowed a blindingly white smile upon his assistant. He'd always thought of his personal assistant, Marcus Hamill, as a rather undemonstrative older brother – always reminding him of the 'what-ifs' and consequences of actions. Darius had climbed the cooperate ladder, both with the help of family – and his own charm and brilliance (something not seen much in these days of cooperate sharks). At twenty nine, Darius was the youngest CEO of a Fortune 500 company in the U.S. The _Daedalus_ _Corp_. was the leader in import/export of natural resources on the East coast, and worked with hundreds of government, military and private organizations. He was also very active in numerous charities, as Darius always believed that you had to give a little to get a little.

His extravagant ways, success and good looks often earned him the nickname "Playboy CEO" – his golden locks, green eyes, strong square chin and model-build body…didn't hurt this image either. He used their assumption that all he was looks, to his advantage – especially in the board room. Darius had been somewhat of a prodigy in finance and business, as well as history and science.

"Those people needed a hospital, and we needed their oil. I see it as a win-win situation, Marcus," Darius said.

"Well I can't disagree with that," Hamill admitted, "I still think you could have contracted for lower export duties without the cost of the hospital."

Darius' smile faded. "You sound like Aunt Margaret. She's always harping on me to focus on more profit, and screw the underdog." He looked back down at his paper. Darius had been raised by his Aunt Margaret DeGalle, after his parents, the wealthy Darius Senior and his wife, were killed in an auto accident when he was seven. Most of his inheritance came from them, as well as the combined finances of the DeGalle fortunes. Margaret DeGalle was a force to be reckoned with, Lucius had learned early on.

He'd learned to work with her, or around her, but not to go against her. Margaret might have been older, but the woman's claws were in her influence and power in the community. Many had been scratched getting on her bad side. She was the only parent figure in his life, however, and that was a fact he held onto like a vice.

Hamill decided discretion was the better part of valor, and left the subject of the _Grand Dame_ herself alone. "Have you checked the stock reports yet? LexCorp was down 5 points yesterday, I was wondering what the cause was."

Darius' gaze was fixed on the continued story from the front page, and answered absently, "If I had to guess, I'd say Lex Luthor simply doesn't have the power he used to. Prison time tends to effect stock prices. Even if he did manage to beat the indictment."

"Wheedling rich old heiresses out of their money can buy just about anything…even judges," Hamill said, arranging some files on Darius' desk.

Darius cut his eyes up toward his assistant reprovingly.

"I didn't say I admired him for it, Lucius." Hamill demurred.

"Good," Darius said, looking back down at the paper, "Luthor had some pretty twisted ideas of power structures and legalities within business deals. Unless he was sovereign lord. I'm glad our contact with LexCorp is as distant as possible."

"Much to your aunt's dismay," Hamill smiled ironically. Darius frowned back at him again, and Hamill held a hand up in defeat. "You're right, Lucius. Lex Luthor is no one to get into bed with." He sidled up to his boss, looking over the younger man's shoulder. "What's the _Daily Planet_ got in it that has you so captivated?"

Darius turned to his assistant, and showed him the section he was reading eagerly. Marcus was astonished how Darius had the ability to be all business and formality one moment, and look as if the years had been "washed way" by youthful exuberance the next.

"Superman recovered!" The excitement in the young CEO's face almost made him look like a teenager, still wondrous about the unknown. And Superman was still, in essence, an _unknown_. "It has pictures of him lifting a continent-size land mass out of the ocean, saying he hurtled it out into space." Darius jabbed a finger at the pictures for emphasis, as Hamill smiled at him. "A freaking _continent_, Marcus! Then he fell from the mesosphere, hit the ground, and is right back out there, saving the world! Seriously, what _can't_ he do?"

"I see the Man of Steel has captivated the scientist in you," Hamill said.

Darius smirked, "More like the comic book superhero-lover in me. He's the stuff the Saturday morning cartoon heroes I used to watch as a kid are made of." His smile took on a wistful air. "My mom and I would watch cartoons together, and she'd always say, 'There should be more superheroes in the world, to save the day'. Maybe then, people wouldn't have to learn the hard way that life turns around and kicks you in the teeth, when you least expect it."

Darius tried not to think back to his Aunt Margaret coming to tell him that his parents were dead. He'd vowed to become successful in everything he did, so that he could put some kind of buffer between himself and the tribulations of real life. It made him a bit idealistic, maybe a trifle arrogant – but whatever kept him at the top of his game, the better.

Hamill turned on the huge, LCD flatscreen TV adjacent to Darius' desk – the world news blazed across the screen.

"A militant group of Muslim jihadists have taken a Jewish temple hostage. Bombs were heard going off inside, and it is estimated that over two hundred are hurt or dead…" the reporter droned on and on about more bombings in Palestine.

"Well," Hamill said dourly, watching the footage of blood-soaked streets, men and women wailing in terror, and utter destruction, "Apparently, there are some things even _Superman_ can't prevent."

_**TBC…**_

**A/N**: So, what do you think? Good? Bad? Ugly? Please let me know! Clark/Superman to enter in Chap 2, more angst, loads of confusion and... more angst. I like angst. Can ya tell? C'mon now, it's your turn to let the author know how she did! Feed the need!


	2. Rebuke

**Disclaimer**: Still own nothing. Still making nothing off of this, except some fun imagining what Singer is going to do for the second **_Superman_** movie.

**A/N**: I'm so glad I have some people interested in this! My ideas on where this will go are still changing, so feedback from you wonderful readers is very much needed! Keep up the reviews guys! And _thankies_ to those who've reviewed!

**Veritas**

**Chapter 2: "Rebuke"**

Dark jackets, jostling shoulders, elbows, briefcases and the muffled "_excuse me_" or "_hey, watch it!"_ – greeted Clark Kent as he maneuvered his way into the lobby of the _Daily_ _Planet_. Normally, the hustle of getting up to his office in the mornings unnerved Clark a bit. He was always trying to keep his cover of 'the bumbling mild-mannered Clark' going, while simultaneously greeting people who usually ignored him – and hoping no one knocked his glasses off.

But today, he was on top of the world. Literally. After leaving Lois' company, Clark had spent the rest of the night soaring above the curve of the Earth – letting his emotions ride a current of exhilaration that was a lot higher than he was flying.

He had a son.

_I'm not alone in this world. There's someone out there, who'll understand what it's like…who'll understand what it had been like for me growing up. And, he'll have someone who understands, to be there for him as he goes through it._

Clark didn't think his heart could swell any larger, than when he was standing in his son's room, imparting the sleeping boy with words that his father, Jor-El, had left him with. Somehow, it seemed fitting to use his father's words to express what it would be like to be a descendant of Krypton.

_And Lois_. Clark thought about the woman he loved as he entered the crowded elevator. _Lois seemed to still be in a little shock, but the look in her eyes was… hopeful? Maybe…maybe there was still a way…_ Clark sighed heavily. He had no idea what to do with that situation. Richard was a good man - he'd seen that first hand. And, he was the only father Jason had known. Yet, Clark knew deep down that Lois would never deny him access to Jason (_or rather, she'd never deny Superman_…). She'd understand how important it would be to Jason – later on, when his abilities began to manifest more often – that he have someone to guide him. _But,_ _it's too soon to worry about those issues…_

The elevator door dinged open, spilling its passengers over the threshold into the war room of the _Daily Planet_. Clark, rather ungainly, adjusted his briefcase with one hand, shoving his glasses up on his nose with the other, and moved through the crowd. He smiled faintly to himself. With everything else on his mind, the glowing feeling from the night before still held.

Today was going to be a better day.

"Hey, Jimmy!" Clark said to his young friend, as he squeezed through the other reporters milling around the newly installed TV monitors around the room. The earthquake following the growth of Luthor's krypto-continent had shattered all of the LCD screens that kept a never-ending flow of news and world reports streaming into the _Planet_. Clark admired the new twenty-five inch screens. _Nothing but the best,_ the Chief would say

"Oh! Hey there, Clark," Jimmy Olsen smiled back. He was leaning on a desk, a donut in one hand, and a memory card for a digital camera in the other. He'd been watching the screen just over Clark's dark head.

Clark grinned sheepishly, as a young secretary pressed against his back, trying to squeeze around his bulk. He jostled forward somewhat, careful not to push the desks in front of him too hard. He'd mastered control of his immense strength long ago, but it still didn't hurt to be careful.

Clark said, his voice hitching up a few notches, "Hey, uh…have you seen Lo-"

"Miss Lane?" Jimmy finished for him. "She hasn't made it in yet. If she were anyone else, with all the excitement the last few days… she'd be taking a very long, very sunny vacation." He chuckled, taking a bite of his donut. "But this is _Lois_…" he added, over the mouthful of pastry.

Clark chuckled. _Yeah, it's Lois_. Lois taking a day off from ferreting out a story was about as likely as Perry breaking into a song and dance routine in the media room.

"God. Can you believe this?" Jimmy asked, suddenly pulling Clark out of his reverie.

He turned back to the TV, which showed a news crew running continuous coverage of bombings in Palestine. A fair-haired young reporter was standing in front of a street – that actually looked nothing like a street at all. Debris and charred cars lined what should have been a thoroughfare – ambulance sirens wailing in the background, fire crews trying in vain to put out houses blazing. Clark saw some men carrying a litter, covered in a white sheet – a shoeless foot barely visible from beneath the bloody shroud.

Clark swallowed hard, the scene hitting him like a punch to the gut.

Jimmy spoke up, "I guess Superman can't be everywhere, all the time." He shook his head and turned back to the desk behind him, going over a few photos.

"Maybe Superman can't prevent all the evils in the world." Clark said, his voice lower, somber. "Especially when two peoples are determined to try to destroy one another. It's the innocents caught in the middle that pay the price."

Even as he said it, Clark was already thinking about racing to the elevator and speeding over there - help the wounded, if nothing else. He remembered what his father had told him, about how he couldn't change the course of human evolution, nor could he try to remedy all the problems that mankind created for _themselves_. This didn't help the sick feeling in his gut every time he saw diplomacy fail, and countries go to war.

Just then, Clark heard familiar footsteps ascending the steps into the media room. Turning, he caught sight of wavy brown hair, framing an oval face with expressive hazel eyes – eyes that looked tired…and _angry_.

Lois tromped up the steps, flipping an errant lock of hair from her eyes. Only sending a curt smile to those brave enough to tell her 'good morning', she continued briskly into the melee of reporters running from one desk to another, papers being handed off and the endless cacophony of conversations.

Clark couldn't help the surge of warmth that had spread through him upon seeing her enter. It was like taking a flight above the clouds, every time he thought about her and their son. But after examining her a little more closely, Clark could see the weariness, the dark smudges under her eyes, and the way she carried herself this morning. Her lips were a thin line, as she pressed past he and Jimmy, not even throwing a "hey" at either of them. She was tense, agitated. The smile he'd attempted when she neared them, faltered – as she passed by, staring straight ahead, as if an interior monologue were running in her head.

Confused, Clark put his things on his desk and made his way to the coffee machine. _She'd had a rough night after I left_, he thought guiltily. _All of this…with Jason, it's a lot to take in. I wish I could make it easier for her, somehow._ He looked over his shoulder toward her chair, his brows furrowed with concern as she started rummaging through the new mail and articles for the day.

Lois sorted through the paper piles on her desk, checking over some email and looking through the reports. She flipped through more recaps of Superman saving the city, the damage from the quake aftershocks…none of it catching her attention. Clark hesitated as he started to approach her chair, as Lois picked up her phone and jammed a few of the number keys.

"Kenny? Yeah, Lois Lane here. What've you got for me?"

_One of her contacts_, Clark thought.

"No, Kenny. No, I really don't care about that. A ten-block radius on the east side of town not having hot water isn't exactly scoop-worthy!" Lois massaged her forehead. "Oh, they have no water at _all_? Oh geez, c'mon, Kenny. It's probably just a burst water main because of the quake. You work at the police department and this is all you can give me? Plumbing problems?"

Clark twitched a small smile. Lois took _tenacious_ to a whole new level.

"A few antique emporiums' basements got flooded. Kenny, that's _Art and Leisure's_ beat, let _them_ cover it. I need…juicy. A 'reel 'em in' story." She paused. Though Clark could hear every detail with his super-hearing from his vantage point near the coffee machine, he craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Lois' face. Her shoulders had gone rigid, and her fingers had unconsciously curled into a tight fist around the receiver cord.

Lois said, coolly, "Superman, huh? He's _yesterday_, Kenny…I need something for today. I'm not covering …_him_."

Clark nearly stumbled into Mike from Economics, almost dousing the man with scalding coffee. The tone of Lois voice had caught him so off-guard, he barely succeeded in steadying Mike and catching the coffee cup. He mumbled apologies and readjusted his glasses for the nth time. He'd only heard that kind of callousness in Lois' voice about Superman when he'd first arrived back. It had hurt him… more deeply than he'd like to admit, but he more than understood it. He'd hoped things had changed somewhat…especially after all that had happened. _What had brought this on? Was it from last night?_

"Uh-huh. Right." Lois was saying, as Clark neared her desk cautiously. "Right, Kenny. Thanks for nothing, _Kenny_." And she clattered the phone receiver back on the base, not bothering to suppress a growl as she did so. "Why does it all have to come down at once..." she muttered to herself, as she snatched one of the blue 'Contacts' notebooks from her desk and started flipping.

"Um, Lois…?" Clark managed, unsure.

She sighed, throwing a hand up with her finger extended in a 'warning' sign. "If you are not coming with a _scoop-of-the-century_ story…or a _jug_ of caffeine – go away."

Clark set the tall cup of coffee easily on Lois' desk, favoring her with a shy smile as he stood by her side.

"Well, one out of two. Not bad," he said.

Lois shook her head apologetically and accepted the coffee, breathing in the rich aroma. "Sorry, Clark. 'Craptastic' is a word that is beginning to describe my day." She added under her breath, "Maybe my life…"

Clark frowned. He didn't like the sound of that last utterance. "I'm sorry, Lois." His voice was softer, sincere.

Lois glanced up at him. "Don't worry about it, its nothing you've done," she said dismissively.

He followed her gaze to a paper on her desk, displaying a picture of Superman, standing tall and steadfast at the scene of an accident. He'd pulled a car that had flipped off of another - one-handed.

Lois seemed to stare at the picture for a moment, as though she were trying to see through the paper. Clark watched her eyes harden – then she pointedly set her coffee cup down, right in the middle of the photo. Covering Superman's face.

Clark winced inwardly. _She _is _mad._

"Thanks for the coffee, Clark. Now… if only you had a story hidden in that…remarkably 70s-ish tweed jacket there, you might be helping my day away from the _craptastic_ descriptive."

"You're welcome, Lois," he stifled a small chuckle, hoping to lighten her mood, "And…is 'craptastic' a word?"

Lois gave him a cheerless smile, just as Perry stuck his head out of his office and barked, "Lane! Kent! My office!"

---------------------

"Kent, I want you covering the city's rebuilding efforts. I hear there's major substructure flooding on the east side of town." The Chief said, reclining back in his leather chair.

"Sure thing, sir!" Clark answered a little too quickly. Lois cut her eyes over at him.

"Perry, I already checked that story out. It's nothing but some burst plumbing." Lois huffed.

Perry eyed her. "Not from what I hear. I heard two men were found drowned in the basements of some antiques place. How do you drown in an antiques house?"

"Two men died?" Clark asked, his voice registering his surprise.

"They think they were trapped in the basement when it flooded, but I want you down there interviewing the cops, get a look at the scene. Talk to the coroner. There's got to be more to it." Perry said.

Lois spoke up, exasperated, "Wait a sec, Perry! I talked to one of my sources this morning about this and he didn't say anything about dead bodies being found. I really think-"

Perry cut her off, "Just discovered the bodies ten minutes ago, Lois. Maybe your guy didn't know yet." He raised his eyebrows at her, "Or maybe you dismissed this as not _Lois Lane-_worthy material. No _scandals_, no intrigue… that sort of thing."

"Perry," Lois tried, surreptitiously glancing at Clark as if she expected him to start grinning at the fact that she was getting chastised for always wanting to do the stories _she_ thought were important. All he could do was look uncomfortable, as he shifted in his chair and flicked his blue eyes between Perry and Lois.

Perry smiled. "I want you to cover the conference at the _Daedalus_ _Corp_. They just completed a major oil deal in Saudi Arabia, as well as contracting the construction of a new state-of-the-art hospital there. They also managed to finagle a few deals that might gain us a few allies over there in that _tender-box_ of an area."

Clark saw Lois' cheeks flush with anger, her mouth slightly open.

"You want me to cover a business press conference – for the ' Little Orphan _Andie_' of Metropolis, just because he's made another bazillion dollar deal? And _Clark_ gets the possible murder cover-up drowning!" she shouted.

Clark looked down, and gulped. This was not going well. "Sir," he started, "I think that-"

Perry held up a hand, halting Clark's attempt to defend Lois - to get her put on the case with him. _Before she talks herself into riding a desk for the next three weeks…_

"I thought you said it was just plumbing problems, Lois?" Perry feigned innocence, his eyes daring her to keep arguing with him. It had been a long couple of weeks - anyone could tell that Perry had borne the brunt of some serious stress, and arguing with his best reporter wasn't something he had time for.

Perry White dismissed the duo, and Lois nearly flattened Clark as he tried to hold the door to the office open for her. She moved to her desk and hastily grabbed her things, knocking papers and pens on the floor. Clark edged up around her, retrieving the items falling victim to Lois' frustration.

"Lois, if you want, why don't you meet me over at the antiques store after the press conference is over?" He gave her a hopeful look, anxious to have a chance to work with her again. Not that he ever got the chance much, always having to zoom away when Superman was needed elsewhere. _I can't deny that this drowning has me wondering. It's got to be positively killing poor Lois._

Lois looked slowly at Clark – slowly enough that it began to unnerve him, and he fidgeted with his glasses.

"Because you're _Mister Reliable_ when it comes to actually _being_ at a place we've agreed to meet, huh?" She raised a brow at him.

Clark's chest tightened involuntarily, and he flushed. He deserved that.

"You're right," he said, his tone lowering. Lois's hand, which had been defiantly on her hip, fell as she watched him. "I haven't always been there..."

_But I've always been there when you needed me, Lois…in one form or another. How could I not_? _Except, ironically…when you needed me most._ Clark desperately hoped his eyes were conveying the dual attempt at an apology – for both himself, _and Superman_.

Lois continued to stare hard into Clark's emotive eyes, like she was searching…for something.

"Don't worry about it, Clark." She pulled her eyes from his intense gaze. She seemed to shudder slightly, chilled. "We both have work to do."

------------

Clark had arrived at the crime scene in time to watch the fire department pump the basement of a little antique store called _The Hidden Door_. He managed to slip past the other reporters and barriers – a feat that came rather easily for a person with super-speed. Once around the side of the building, using his X-ray vision, Clark scanned the building for any weaknesses in the structure, possibly from the quake. The only questionable area was a wall in the sub-basement where the mortar had been eroded away from the force of the water spray from an overhead water main. It looked like it had simply blown out from too much pressure in the line.

Stymied, Clark returned to the front of the building and found a nearby police officer. The officer told him that the two men who died were clerks in the store, who'd called in the broken water main. They'd been worried about some antiques that were apparently stored in the basement. The police figured the water was coming in too fast, maybe one of the guys slipped and fell - drowned - and the other died trying to save him. The water had been up to the ceiling when they arrived.

Clark had noticed that the basement had a three-inch thick steel door, with combination locks. _A lot of security for a small antiques business._

"Anything stolen?" Clark asked.

The cop shrugged, "Won't know 'til the owner does inventory. Don't see how though, unless _Aquaman_ swam in through the wall down there."

Feeling that he'd accomplished about as much as he could, Clark suddenly wanted to check in on Lois. She was clear on the other side of town, with this the lunchtime traffic - there was no way to drive. Getting a cab would take even longer.

But Clark had a better way.

----------------

Lois had spent her time standing in the back of the conglomerate of reporters at the _Daedelus_ _Corp._ office building. After jotting down a few notes, and looking thoroughly dissatisfied with the less than amazing outcome of the press conference, she headed out the door. The mid-afternoon sun gleamed off her chocolate locks. Her face was solemn, and she grimaced as a shrill ring from her cell phone slowed her walk.

"Hello? Hey, Richard." She stopped outside the _Daedelus_ building, stepping out near the curb to hail a cab. "What…? No…no, I didn't forget. Sorry Richard, but Perry sent me out on an assignment that Jason could have done. Seriously!" She waved her hand, but the cab passed her by. "Dammit! No, it's alright. I'll see you in a little while, okay?"

Lois stepped a little further out from the curb, "Oh come _on_!" Another yellow cab zipped by her, as she rolled her eyes heavenward as if asking '_why me?'_

Just then, a bike messenger on a chrome-plated, futuristic bike - shades on and earphones in – came hurtling down the sidewalk. Normally bike messengers stuck to nearly causing traffic accidents in the street, but this guy must have decided to take a short-cut. Lois was facing the opposite direction, trying to hail a cab coming from the other way.

She never saw the guy…

"LOOK OUT!" Someone screeched.

Lois turned in time for the messenger to over-steer his bike avoiding a business man exiting the building. In an instant, the rider's shoulder slammed into Lois, sending her sprawling into the busy street.

Lois gasped from the wind being knocked out of her, looking up through her disheveled hair in time to see the enormous front bumper and grill of an oncoming Chevy barreling down on her.

She had barely enough time to squeeze her eyes shut and breathe, "Oh God!" – when she was suddenly being lifted in immensely strong arms! Ducking her head, and keeping her eyes shut, Lois stayed perfectly still. It was as though she was terrified to look into her savior's face.

Some distance away, he gently set his precious cargo on her feet. Lois pulled away immediately, jerking her warmth from his. He waited, while she tried to compose herself – _a fair distance from me,_ he noticed dejectedly. Both remained silent for a few moments, the only sound was the soft ruffle of the fabric of his cape, billowing in the afternoon breeze.

He watched her small form, aching to make the first move, but still wanting to allow her some space. He could feel her emotions permeating his being, just as she could probably feel his warmth radiating toward her.

Lois finally turned around, her face a mask of indifference that struck him like a knife.

"Superman."

For the first time since he'd met her, he nearly cringed when she used his name. Coming from her now – it sounded like an awful _rebuke_.

_**TBC….**_

Ch. 3 Coming soon!

**A/N**: Now you can let me know what YOU think! Enough angst? Want more? How did I do with Clark? Confrontation is coming up…and more from Darius! I won't know unless you press that little review button!


	3. Hands Open

**A/N: **I'm hoping that I am living up to the expectations for 'angst' in this story. I guess I should give fair warning that I never resolve angst soon. If at all. I hope I can get more feedback from you guys, so I know where you'd like to see some of this go. Feedback is essential – the Muse has the leather whip over my head, but YOU guys have the influence! Enjoy, and please review and let me know how I'm doing! Cheers!

**_P.S_** – This chapter is titled after the wonderful song by _Snow Patrol_ – which, if you listen to the song, it really speaks for Lois and Clark, especially in these scenes.

**Veritas**

**Chapter 3: "Hands Open"**

_Breathe, Lois. Just breathe_.

Lois could feel _his_ eyes, like a gentle weight on the back of her head. She willed her heart to return to its normal rhythm, cursing the fact that she knew he could probably hear its incessant thumping.

_Not that this heart ever obeys my will when _he _is near, anyway_!

Running a hand over her suit jacket, attempting to buy a little more time before she had to turn to face him – Lois could only hear the soft rustle of his cape behind her. He was staying amazingly quiet. _He's never been a huge talker, though_. But, he seemed to be waiting for her to make the first move, so to speak. He was giving her space.

_Good_, she thought bitterly, _because I'd have probably jumped down his throat a minute ago! I still might…_

Erasing as much emotion from her face as she could, Lois turned and faced her savior. Sure enough, he was staring intently at her, his eyes soft and caring – and troubled.

"Superman," she said, her cool tone emphasizing all of her suspicions and frustrations in the simple three syllables of his name.

He seemed to wince. "Lois," he answered simply.

She could see the confusion emanating from those damned blue eyes, and Lois felt the frustration rising like a coiled snake in her stomach. She couldn't let herself feel sorry for him now, not when she finally had him to herself, for however long that would be. She needed answers. And Superman's calm, patient, _knowing_ eyes reflected in her memory of the previous night – when he'd visited Jason. _His son!_ He knew something…was hiding something…big. Lois knew she had to hold on to that suspicion to steel herself – even though _his_ magnetism was working on her, pulling her toward his being, even then.

Lois cleared her throat, and stepped nearer to the wall on the edge of the roof. "I have a few things I want to discuss with you." _All business._ _Yes, that was easier. Make this like an interview. A fact-finding mission. _

"Anything you want, Lois," his voice was closer now, coming from high above her right shoulder.

_Dammit_! That frustration she was clinging to would melt in a heart beat if she allowed him too close. Deftly, Lois turned and backed up a step or two away from him. He took in her features slowly, reading her face as though she were a precious manuscript that was rarely seen. Lois swallowed and forced herself to think about her feelings that night on the dock. The anger and confusion.

"Jason," she finally blurted, as Superman took another step tentatively toward her. He came up short, eyes widening somewhat.

Lois saw she had his attention, and that he was fast zeroing in on where her line of questioning was heading. _I've seen that look in the eyes of men I've interviewed a hundred times before. Men who had secrets…_

"How, Superman? How did this happen?" Lois asked directly. She pinned his gaze, blue eyes caught by hazel. "I carried him, I gave birth to him. But not once did I remember…_being_ with you. How is that possible?"

Superman heaved a sigh that sounded like it carried the weight of a thousand broken hearts. He looked away, out over the city for a moment, and then lowered his eyes. "Lois, I am …so sorry. I never meant for this to happen."

"No!" Lois said suddenly. "I don't want apologies, Superman. I don't want excuses or valiant assertions of trying to do the 'noble' thing." Her hand sliced the air for emphasis, "I want the _truth_."

He swung his body toward her, eyes filled with regret and sorrow. He extended a hand toward Lois, entreating her to listen.

"Lois, please understand. I did what I thought would protect you. Knowing what you knew," he faltered, searching for the right words, "It would have been too dangerous." Superman reached toward Lois' face, his hand hovering above her cheek. "You have to believe that what I did, I did with the best of intentions…even though it killed me every time I thought about it afterward."

Lois stared wide-eyed up at the man before her. The man she thought _could_ never lie. The man she thought _would_ never lie to _her_, at least. His fingers barely stroked the soft skin of her cheek, before she yanked her head away from his warmth.

"You did something to me, didn't you?" Her voice was a harsh whisper. "_Didn't you!_"

Superman looked stricken, as though she'd socked him in the gut with a fist full of kryptonite. "Lois…I –"

Lois felt like her world was crumbling down around her ears. She'd never been a very trusting soul, a trait that ended up serving her well in her profession. She was able to keep her professional distance, stay objective – crack the case wide open without worrying about caring too much about stepping on toes. 'Trust but verify' wasn't a mantra Lois subscribed to. _Verify first_… get the hard facts.

Now she knew - the man she'd loved…and trusted…had done something to her. _Something without my consent_. And then he'd left her for five years to fend for herself, with a child. _At least Richard had been there…_

Lois narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. "So, what'd you do? Put the whammy on my memories with your powers some how? Brainwash me? Did you use some kind of Kryptonian mind-zapper to rob me of our night together? Of knowing who the father of my son was for five years?"

Superman seemed to deflate before her. All of his strength and powerful stature waned – his shoulders slumping as his eyes closed and he lowered his head. She'd never seen him look so miserable. And some wicked part of her enjoyed seeing him hurt like this. _He robs me of my memories of what surely had to be the most spectacular night of my life…with a man I loved more than anything! And…what? He thinks I'm just going to schoolgirl swoon and forgive him everything? _

When Superman finally raised his gaze to hers, the look of utter anguish in those depthless blue eyes bore a minuscule hole in her anger and pricked her heart – if only for a moment.

"Lois…_please_. I had to. I couldn't stand seeing you in pain." He said - his usually deep, rich voice just above a whisper. "I couldn't…" he faltered again, looking less like the superhero Lois knew him to be, and more like a broken man. _Human._ _Vulnerable_.

Lois clenched her jaw. _He had to? What does that mean? And why would I be in pain, after making love to the man of my dreams? Did I know something else? Something else about him that hurt me…?_

She raised a hand up in a 'stop' gesture, as Superman began to move toward her. "You stole my memories. Memories that were mine to cherish! Making love to you…_loving you_… those are things I should be able to remember in my _heart_, Superman."

Superman swallowed. "I know." Lois could read in his eyes that _he_ remembered every kiss, every moment of their time together in perfect detail. _Why shouldn't I be able to?_

"You're hurt." He said after a beat.

Lois snapped her head up, looking incredulously at him. "Boy, _that_ is the understatement of the century!"

He continued forward, hands open, as though he was afraid she might bolt if he moved too fast. "Your hand, Lois. You're bleeding." He gently took the hand she'd been using to hold him at bay in his, the heat of his skin shocking her system.

Lois swallowed the rush of emotion that the feeling of their skin together wrought – noticing that in her run-in with the kamikaze bike messenger, she'd scraped her palm on the asphalt. Superman stood over her, eclipsing her vision with the scarlet 'S' emblazoned across his broad chest. Lois felt tiny in his shadow, as though she where nothing but a satellite, encompassed by him – caught in his gravitational pull.

Tenderly, almost caressingly, he wiped the blood from her palm – her hand dwarfed in his. It always amazed her how a man, who could move continents and speed to the center of the Earth, could be so incredibly gentle. Lois watched his fingers play over the lines on her hand, electric sensations racing up her nerve-endings. She could feel his breath softly brushing across her face, and she tried to suppress the shudder that ran down her spine.

Suddenly angry with the way her mind and body were reacting to a man, who for all intents and purposes had betrayed her – Lois pulled her hand from his. Tears stung her eyes, and she swiped a hand across her face to try to catch a few of them, before they fell for all to see.

"Lois," he breathed. Her pulling away caused more worry to seep into his voice. She glanced up at him before she spoke, and he could see the tears welling. His face looked like a fresh cut had been drawn across his heart, and he swallowed thickly.

"You say you did this to me for my own good. Don't you think I should have had some say in it?" Her voice was gravelly with emotion, and she hugged herself, trying to keep control. "You say you did it with the 'best of intentions'. Well, I guess I don't have to remind you what the road to Hell is paved with." _And I have a feeling you're getting a taste of Hell right now. Join the club…_

Superman stood silently, hands lying uselessly at his sides as she continued. "You say you were protecting me from getting hurt somehow. Well, you know what? The only thing hurting me these days…is _you_." Her voice cracked on that last word.

And in that moment, she was sure she saw something crack in Superman as well.

He said slowly, painfully, "The last thing on this Earth I would want to do… is hurt _you_, Lois."

"So, I guess that 'I never lie, Lois' thing is subjective, huh?"

His eyes widened and his brows furrowed. Shaking his head he took a step toward her, as she stepped backward from him. "I didn't–"

Lois pinned him with a hard look. "It was a lie of omission, Superman. What's the difference? You weren't going to tell me you erased my memory. Makes me wonder what else is hidden in there! What _else_ besides our night together did you omit from my recollection, huh?" A tear finally escaped and slide down her porcelain cheek, but she defiantly ignored it. _I'm not going to break down now, not when I have him where I want him!_

"Lois," he implored, "I'm so sorry this all came out in this way, and I would give anything to go back and change it all – but you have to trust–"

He suddenly cut his sentence off short, his jaw tightening as he looked out over the city. He turned quickly back to Lois, with a rueful expression.

She knew what this meant. He was needed elsewhere. _Good. I don't think I can take looking at him anymore right now, anyway_.

"Go." She said, shaking her head resignedly and turning her back on him.

Lois could feel him watching her, his pain rolling like heat waves off of his body, for just a moment before she heard the whisper of wind that signaled his leaving. When she turned back around, there was – not surprisingly – no trace of the Man of Steel, as he had rocketed away to save somebody… somewhere. Lois still felt the prick of jealousy, even now, knowing that someone else had taken Superman away from her. Right when she was trying to get answers.

She walked to the edge of the building and leaned on the wall, sniffling. She'd hurt him. She'd been harsh, cutting him deeply with her words and accusations. But he hadn't refuted them. He'd stolen her memories without her consent, and that was a betrayal in her eyes. _What else was he_ _trying to protect me from_? She wondered. _Surely our being intimate and conceiving a child isn't all that dangerous. Was it_?

Standing straight, Lois raised her chin defiantly to the Metropolis skyline – this time, not caring if super-ears were listening in.

"I'm going to find out what else was in those memories. Whether it's dangerous or not," she muttered.

-------------------------------

The _click-clack_ of Margaret DeGalle's Ferragamo heels echoed off the polished wood in the corridor, as she made her way to her nephew's boardroom in the _Daedalus_ _Corp_. building. A regal woman in her late fifties, Margaret wore her dark brown hair long, pulled up into a sophisticated twist – silver streaks coloring her temples and near her crown. Large almond eyes and slightly olive skin, along with high cheek bones and full, seductive lips gave her a Mediterranean air – graces of her Italian-French roots.

She had raised Darius from the tender age of seven, when his parents had been killed, and she'd never shirked from her duty as matriarch of the little family. They were simply all each other had. And the millions left to young Lucius didn't hurt matters. Her own deceased husband had left her very well off – but every little bit helped.

Some might have said she forced Darius to grow up too quickly, sending him off to foreign schools to learn business and science. His own intelligence carried him far, but Margaret prided herself on his charisma and self-reliance. She'd taught him how to charm his way into and out of deals, while simultaneously making the other person feel as though they had achieved the upper hand. Until the rug had been ripped from underneath them. Margaret DeGalle didn't believe in 'pulling punches'.

"My dear!" she said, sweeping into the boardroom just as the meeting within had closed. "Brokering the deal of the century, are we?"

Darius put a sheaf of paper carefully into his leather notebook and grinned boyishly at his aunt. "Business as usual, Aunt Margaret. What brings you here on such a fine afternoon?"

"I came to discuss a few things with you, specifically about this hospital we are sinking–" she paused to pull out a small piece of paper from her stylish purse, "–two hundred and forty million dollars into?" She looked up from under sculptured brows quizzically. "Is there a reason that we need pay for all this, in a village that will probably be destroyed by its neighbors before the foundation is poured?"

Darius loosened his tie as he led his aunt out of the office. "I think it's necessary to secure their trust, Aunt Margaret. And those people, who are there now, need it."

"But you could have sealed the deal for the mineral rights, without this extra gift, couldn't you?"

"I suppose," he replied, looking down at his shoes as they walked. _I should have known she wouldn't approve._ "It's not as if we can't spare the money or materials."

Margaret gave him a long-suffering look. "Darius, sweetheart, what have I always told you? When you can get what you want, without tipping your hand, _always_ take the advantage. This province in Saudi Arabia will be looking for more handouts from us now, and using your deal as leverage. If you had just gone in – brokered the mineral rights deal for a one-time _monetary_ compensation – that would be it. You would have gotten what you wanted, with no strings attached."

Darius looked over at his aunt, and she smiled. "Life is so much better when there are no strings attached, son. This is _your_ empire, use it how you like! I've always thought you were a little too soft with some of the companies you've acquired. Keeping them going when they aren't turning a profit. And all those charities! Helping your fellow man only goes so far."

"But those companies are those people's only livelihood. Everyone started out somewhere… even I did." Darius said uncomfortably. He knew his aunt was a major shareholder in the company, which gave her a lot of power. And she had a habit of coming in and 'pruning the dead branches' as she called it. Cutting off charities, stopping scholarships, and selling companies that she felt weren't pulling their weight.

They exited the building and entered the underground garage. It was sparsely lit, but Margaret always had two bodyguards following her at all times. Darius usually had one or two – but he only called them in when he was leaving the building. Sure enough, two solidly built men in black suits had taken up stations behind Darius and his aunt, and Darius wasn't entirely sure whether they were for him, or his aunt.

"I took the liberty of foreclosing on two little _mom-and-pop_ organizations." Margaret said, handing him the paperwork from her purse. "One was a little foundry in Edge City – pitiful performance, actually. The other was a little tabloid paper, _The Trader_? Hardly any circulation at all."

Darius stared hard at her, but knew it was pointless to argue. Perhaps later, he could look over the paper work and see if he could salvage these people's jobs, or pensions at least. But battling it out with Margaret would be a no-win.

"You should have at least discussed this with me," he said.

"Why?" Margaret said, mock-innocently. Her beautiful eyes were hard despite the smile. A definite sign that read, 'Don't question me.'

Just then a figure leapt from behind one of the cars. A thin man, dressed in coveralls that were stained with soot, with the insignia of some business on them – pulled a small hand gun and leveled it at Darius.

"You ruined my life!" he screamed. His eyes were wild, and Darius could smell liquor on his breath. "You took my life away…now I'm retuning the favor!" He cocked the gun.

Before he could pull the trigger, one of the bodyguards behind Margaret yelled, startling the man. Darius pulled the small caliber gun he usually carried in a coat pocket out, and aimed at the wild-eyed man.

"Shoot him!" he heard his aunt scream at him. Before he could think, a loud _Bang_ ricocheted through the parking garage. Darius stood, mouth slack, staring at the fallen man. Then he looked at his own gun, the tip of which was still smoking. _I shot him!_

The guards swarmed over the man, checking for more weapons. His chest was spattered in blood, and Darius knew he didn't have to check for a pulse. The guy was dead. He felt his aunt pulling him away from the scene, saying that it would be taken care of. _Which always means, swept under the rug._

Margaret took the gun and wiped it off, handed it to another security officer, and took her nephew's face in her hands. His dollar-green eyes were wide with shock.

"Darling, you did what you had to. Don't worry about it," she said bracingly.

"I killed him," he breathed. "How can I not worry about it?"

She answered, her eyes cool, as though nothing had happened, "Worry about _you_, Darius. He was nobody, _nothing_. He tried to kill us. You are alive. And _you_ are all that matters."

As she lead him away, soothing him with promises of gold-room massages and soothing spa treatments, Darius looked over at the body one last time. He could barely make out what the insignia spelled out on the dead man's chest.

It said _Davis_ _Foundry_…of Edge City.

_**TBC… **_

**CH.** **4 Coming Soon!**

Well? Did Lois ream Sups or what? Like it? Hate it? Want more torture for Superman? Let me know! Press that little review button! Thanks!


	4. Catalyst

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own anything with regard to **_Superman Returns_**, or any of its characters. My husband is worried enough with all my **_Smallville_** DVD sets, as it is!

**A/N:** Thank you so much for continuing to read and review, guys! You are awesome! Sorry for the delay, real life and a bit of writer's block set in. And special thanks to **_Super-Beta Barbara_** (**htbthomas**) – who is still the reigning Queen of mysterious sub-plots. I bow to her writing prowess! Enjoy!

**Veritas**

**Chapter 4: "Catalyst"**

Lucius Darius sat on the edge of the bed. The master bedroom of his palatial estate just outside the city limits of Metropolis was more cavernous than most people's houses. Colored in cool blues and stainless steel, Darius always thought his room gave off a new-age clean style – though he suspected most would think the steel lamps, bed frame and desks had a sterile, cold feeling.

That was exactly how he was feeling right then. Cold. Numb.

_I killed a man_.

The scene kept playing over and over in his mind – like a demented film strip caught on repeat. The gun raised by his own hand…the look of desperation in the other man's eyes…Margaret's voice screaming. It didn't seem real. That couldn't have happened to him, the youngest CEO of a multi-billion dollar company!

_I've hired and fired tons of people. I've even closed down businesses and put hundreds out of work. But ending a life…?_

Darius' face sank into his hands, his once impeccably pressed shirt, now rumpled and unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest. It seemed as if his own clothing had been strangling him, as his aunt had led him back to his room and made sure he stayed there. She had promptly left to deal with the "_situation_".

It hadn't taken him long to figure out that the name on the deceased man's coveralls, _Davis Foundry_ of Edge City, was the same business his aunt had just snuffed out. _That's why he sought me out, then. After all... my name was probably on the foreclosure papers… _

His aunt entered the huge double doors of his room, carrying a mug of hot coffee in each hand.

"Black, no sugar, no cream. And a hit of Irish whiskey to steady the nerves," she said, handing a mug to Darius.

He accepted it and took a long sip. "Thanks."

Margaret sat next to her nephew, taking a sip of her coffee and staring out the huge windows of his bedroom. "Messy business…this shooting, dealing with the authorities…"

"You actually called the cops?"

She answered with an arched brow, "Of course not. There are certain – _authorities_ – on cleaning up situations such as these." She placed a hand on Darius' shoulder, "I don't want you to worry about it any more, darling. Put it out of your mind."

Darius looked at her, askance. "How can I do that? Just forget that I killed a man!" He stood abruptly, setting his coffee down on a night table and walking to the window. "He was one of the workers from that foundry you shut down."

Margaret sighed and moved toher nephew's side. "You know that in business, for the greater good – sometimes sacrifices must be made."

She reached out and turned Darius' face toward her, her dark eyes becoming much darker, "What's done is done, Darius. Nothing can change it, so you move on. You are young, and handsome… and successful. I've taught you to take advantage of your gifts, and to live life on your _own_ terms. Not to wallow in the past or sink in the quicksand of 'what could have been'."

Darius started to object, but found he couldn't argue with her logic. What was done was done. It was not as if he could bring the man back to life. He turned back to the window – his reflection staring back at him, as the sky slowly turned grey with ominous clouds. _It was self-defense – no one forced that man to attack us. _

Somehow, that rationalization still didn't sit right in Darius' mind.

"Why don't you take a nice long shower and then join me downstairs for dinner, love. I want to discuss some things about a new acquisition I've recently come upon – from a fellow corporation who is looking for associates interested in its research."

"What research?" Darius asked, his interest piqued.

Margaret smiled as she stood in the doorway, "Oh…technology. Advanced technology."

Once out of Darius' room, Margret walked briskly to her office. Upon entering, she pulled up some files on her laptop, and sat down with her cell phone in hand.

She dialed, and waited. "It's me. What is the status of the shipment?" She paused a beat, "That isn't good enough!" She took a steadying breath, reining in her temper. "Keep looking, then. I don't care what you have to do. And make sure you don't call attention to yourselves, the way the _others_ have."

With that, she clicked her phone shut. Frowning, Margaret looked over the photos on her screen, wondering if what she'd heard was just a myth…or if it truly existed.

A knock at her door prompted her to hastily shut down and log off her computer. A bulky man with dark hair and attractively dark skin stood just inside the threshold, wearing a black turtle-neck shirt and black slacks that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else during the waning summer months. But he made the ensemble look like it came off the runways of Milan.

He nodded to her, "It's been taken care of, madam. There will be no trace left in that parking garage."

"And the paper trail…?" she asked.

He smiled. "…will never be traced. He was just another casualty of a business takeover."

Margaret raised her chin appreciatively. It was amazing what one could do, with the right influence and enough money. "It is fortunate he had no family. I hate to think what they'd be going through right now… losing a loved one like that. Especially after he lost his job, as well."

She dismissed the man, and sat back on her leather couch. Things were working out according to plan, even though a slight kink had been thrown in unexpectedly. She hadn't expected to be looking down the barrel of a gun… especially not from _that_ man. But Darius had performed beautifully.

It amazed Margaret, the way a particular catalyst could galvanize a person into action – even if the stimuli are different for each person, the separate outcomes could be just as gratifying.

------------------------------

The next morning came, but Clark hardly noticed. It didn't help that he hadn't slept at all the night before, either. He'd spent his time flying around the world at supersonic speed – saving as many people as he could from all manner of disasters and dilemmas. Almost as though the gaping hole in his heart might shrink with the number of prayers and thanks he got from the multitude of people he'd saved that night.

But it didn't. It only served to distract part of his mind from the ache of the emotional evisceration he'd received. And the more people who called him "their savior" – the more frustrated he became.

"The world doesn't need a savior, and neither do I," Lois had said. And even though he'd taken her on their first flight together in five years, to prove to her that the world continued to cry out for that _savior_ – _for him_ – he couldn't help but feel the loneliness falling down on him again, like a lead weight.

_I didn't want to be a savior. I can ease other's pain and suffering – but why can't I find that for myself? Well, that's easy…I brought this on myself the moment I kissed her that day, and wiped away any chance for us. _

But Clark also knew he had no choice in the matter. Zod and the others in his deadly crew had proven how they could manipulate him by using the woman he loved. Luthor had been no different. He'd simply had no choice. _Nothing like having no choice_, he thought bitterly.

Clark had grappled with himself upon returning from his trip to Krypton – whether or not he was doing the right thing, going back to work. Taking on his iconic mantle again. Could he find happiness just being Clark Kent?

One look in those big, beautiful hazel eyes after saving her crippled jet – that fateful day that now seemed like months ago – _that_ had sealed the deal. Clark knew right then, a life without Lois in it…wasn't worth living.

But he'd never dreamed his protecting her – especially protecting her from the _truth_…would hurt so much.

_People think I'm invincible. If they only knew…_

That thought clung to Clark, wreathing him in a shroud of gloom as he made his way into the _Daily Planet_. His tie hung loosely around his strong neck, his tweed jacket and usually immaculatly pressed blue shirt were a little rumpled – a shock of his dark hair hung in his eyes and he didn't even bother saying 'hello' to the usual faces.

Clouds had continued to roll in on Metropolis during the night, and the morning cast a gunmetal grey haze about the city. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and it was as though the Almighty had created the weather to match Clark's dismal mood.

"Hey, Clark!" Jimmy said as Clark shoved his briefcase under his desk and shrugged out of his jacket. "Whoa… rough night?"

Clark looked up and noticed Jimmy giving him a once-over – _probably thinking I went to the Bo's bar again last night_ – and he managed a weak smile.

"You could say that," Clark said.

Jimmy chuckled, "I knew I was right. That first day you were back, and we went to the _Ace of Clubs_ bar – you had to have downed a twelve-pack of beer! But you acted like it didn't faze you, and I thought…man, that's just not _human_!"

Clark's eyes fell to the floor and he sighed. _Gee thanks, Jimmy. Like I need more reminders that I'm different…that I don't fit in._

"But from the looks of you this morning… you went out and got smashed last night!" Jimmy continued, punching Clark on the shoulder and startling him a little. "Guess you're just as vulnerable to the stuff as the rest of us."

Clark pushed his glasses up on his nose, crossed his arms over his chest and perched on the edge of his desk. "Yeah," he agreed halfheartedly.

Just then, he noticed Lois coming from the copy room back to her desk. Her hair was tied back in a clip at the back of her head – long shiny curls spilling down her back. She had a cup of coffee in one hand, and a sheaf of paper in the other, her eyes skimming the top page as she swayed through the crowd of people with ease.

_Yeah_, Clark thought, his eyes taking her in from head to foot, _just as weak as the next guy… when it comes to some things. Or some people._ He could see a grim determination about Lois that morning, the kind of determination she exuded when she was on a case. But he could also see from the way she clutched her coffee like a life-line, that maybe he'd caused her another night of restlessness.

The thought that he'd hurt her _again_….and caused her to lose sleep – _again_ – tugged at Clark's heart. _I need to give her space…let her heal. Let us both heal, a little._

As if to confirm his gloomy thoughts, another peal of thunder rocked the newsroom – startling Lois and causing her to spill her coffee.

"Dammit!" Lois barked, trying to swipe the scalding liquid off her knees without ruining the papers on her desk. She turned around and chucked the cup, as if the spill had been _its_ fault – into a trash can, and looked around for something to clean herself up with.

Before he could think better of it, Clark was by her side, a handful of napkins wadded up in one hand. "Are you alright, Lois? Did it burn you?"

"No, I'm fine," she huffed, taking a few napkins and blotting at her skirt. "Stupid weather. I really needed that coffee this morning…the way I'm dragging."

Clark pursed his lips as he knelt in front of her, cleaning up the mess on the floor. He noticed that some of the hot liquid had splattered side of her knee, and her delicate skin was turning red. Somehow, before his mind caught up with his heart, Clark found himself gingerly pressing a napkin to Lois' knee. He held it here, unable to move.

It was as if time slowed. The heat of her skin teased his fingertips – bringing with it a flurry of emotions and memories. Clark could hear his heart thudding like a drum in his chest as the images flooded his mind.

_His hand in hers, leading her to that silvery bed. The warm white light bouncing off the crystals. Her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck – her hand tracing small circles across his shoulders. The smooth velvet feeling of his lips tracing her jaw and down her neck, while his hands arced down her bare shoulders…arms…down her sides. Her body molded into his…perfectly. Their mouths joined in glacier-melting embrace…_

Clark startled out of his intense flashback, when he noticed Lois had gently lifted his hand from her knee.

"That's…that's okay, Clark. I'm fine." She sounded a little flustered as well, but nothing compared to the full-blown embarrassment he was feeling.

_Oh, God!_ "Oh…_geez_! Ohgeez–" Clark stuttered, suddenly reaching to her desk to hoist himself up and away so fast he knocked over her pen jar. "I'm so sorry, Lois. I didn't mean to… I mean, I only meant to help clean–"

He stood bolt upright, frantically trying to find something else to do with his hands – _which still tingled with her warmth_ – fumbled with her pens, and righting his glasses which had been knocked askew. He could feel his cheeks flaming in what had to be a blush that would rival the red in his cape. _Oh great! What must I have looked like? Sitting here, hands on Lois' leg…reliving the best night of my life in my head… in the newsroom!_ Clark ran a hand through his hair, averting his eyes from Lois' confused face and groaned.

"Lois, _please believe_ me… whatever you're thinking…" he started, his voice lowering, "You were _hurt_ – uh, burned."

Lois froze, staring hard at him as if something he'd said had deeply bothered her. She had the oddest look, and nervously Clark readjusted his glasses, thinking part of his façade had fallen down.

Lois shook her head, as if to dislodge a stalled thought, and gave Clark a smile. "It's _okay_, Smallville. Really. I know you weren't trying to cop a feel or anything!"

Clark's mouth fell open, and somewhere in the back of his fogged brain, he knew if he looked silly before – practically panting over an incredibly hot flashback at Lois Lane's feet – he must look utterly ridiculous now. _Close your mouth, you dummy! Rein it in! Move!… say something!_

"Uh…yeah… I mean _No_!" Rather than continue facing the woman who'd wrought such an intense physical and emotional reaction on his senses, Clark choked out a small, nervous laugh, turned and tried to straighten her desk. _What I would give to be able to super-speed out of here right now…_

"Wow, Clark," she said in an amused tone, "You look about as frazzled as I've been feeling. Bad night?"

_God,_ he thought as he turned toward her again, his brows furrowed, _worse than you know._

And as he slowly pushed down his embarrassment – and his own physical reaction to the memory flashback – Clark felt his heart lighten a bit. With all the tension that had come between he and Lois, all the drama from his return as Superman – this was the first time since he'd returned that he felt the same old rhythm between them. Like his first days at the _Planet_ those many years ago, when he'd desperately wanted to catch the eye of the spitfire Lois Lane, but was shy and unsure. He'd come off as a klutz most of the time, but secretly, the amused twinkle in Lois' eyes as she smiled at him was worth it. Now, for the first time since he didn't know when, Clark felt like he was getting a little of that past back. Before the betrayals and abandonment.

"Making messes again, Lois?" Richard White's voice pulled Clark back to the present. "I told you that you need a bib, sometimes more than Jason did when he was a baby." He smiled pointedly at the coffee stain on Lois' skirt before leaning in to give her a kiss.

"Yeah, yeah," Lois smirked and returned his kiss.

Clark's smile faded, his heart sagging again in his chest as he watched them. _They're so happy. Even Kryptonian superpowers can't compete with that…_

Lois pulled away quickly and cleared her throat. "Well, back to life… and my astonishingly boring write-up of the astonishingly boring press conference yesterday."

"Oh, c'mon now, honey," Richard said, and Clark shoved his hands in his pockets roughly at the sound of the endearment. "Lucius Darius is the next 'it' guy. Maybe Perry will make you his press agent," he joked. Then he added in a lower tone, with a little less joke in it, "Better than being _Superman's_ publicity girl."

Lois glared, "Funny – _not_."

Clark looked away to hide the tension in his jaw. _Okay, Richard. I know you helped save my life, and all…and yeah, I'm grateful…but…_ he kicked himself and decided to refrain from thinking the less-than neighborly retort.

Just then, someone yelled that Clark had a phone call. Thankful for the distraction, Clark asked if the call could be transferred to the phone at the desk next to Lois.

"This is Kent," he said.

"Yeah, Kent? This is Steve Berry down at Metropolis PD. Public Affairs told me if there was another antiques break in, you were the contact at the _Planet_. Well, they're just now clearing the new crime scene."

Clark grabbed a pencil off Lois' desk. "Where, Mr. Berry?"

"Little place on the east side, _Monica's Attic_."

"What happened?" Clark asked, hoping there had not been another death – one he might have prevented had he not been so preoccupied last night.

"Basement flooded. Owner got clocked over the head good, but she'll be alright," Steve said. Clark breathed a sigh of relief.

"Anything stolen?"

Clark could hear Steve shuffling some papers, "Uh yeah, some sort of pedestal. I got no clue what it is, but I got the inventory of this and the other break-in for you if you want to come to the scene."

"Right, I'll get the address and be down there soon," Clark said jotting a few things down. He hung up and felt Lois' eyes upon him.

"Don't tell me… another antique emporium just got robbed," she said.

Clark smiled. "Superman isn't the only one with super-hearing, I see."

She shrugged, "Just good investigative skills, Clark. Where'd it happen?"

"Uh, a place called _Monica's Attic_. Looks like it could be the same MO as the other place that was hit."

Lois threw a glance over her shoulder toward Perry's office, and then reached down to gather her things. Clark looked over her head toward Richard's office – only to see him engrossed in a phone conversation.

"Um, Lois? What are you doing?"

Lois hurriedly shoved Clark toward his desk, grabbed his jacket and a notebook, and stuffed them into his arms. He nearly stumbled over his own feet trying to look at her and not run into other people – or drop his notebook – as he was herded toward the elevators.

"Lois?" he asked again, having a good idea why she was hurrying to sneak out, but allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of her pressed up against his side, her arm entwined with his. _I could get used to this…_

"Just… get in the elevator, Clark. I'm coming with you."

_**TBC…**_

------

**CH 5** Coming in a couple days! So…the mystery continues. Like it? How were Clark's reactions to the Superman gutting last chapter? I have to recommend reading the novelization of the movie, _Superman Returns_ by Marv Wolfman. It is extremely good…and also quite good for the blocked writing Muse! Please…feed the Author's need and **REVIEW**! Stay Tuned!


	5. Won't Get Fooled Again

**A/N**: Ever had one of those weeks where nothing you _planned_ to get done – got done? Yeah, that would be my week. I got held up at "_Procrastination Station_" by season 4 of **_Smallville_**, and some completely overwhelming need to find out what happened next after each episode. Apologies. That is why this chapter is late. I need a pass made up that says "_Go straight to writing! Do not stop at Procrastination Station…Do not Pass Go…do not collect $200 or any caffeine!"_ Special shout outs to **ColtDancer**, **Htbthomas** and **Bitsyboo1974** for poking, prodding, and sometimes kicking me into writing mode!

Enjoy and please let me know how I'm doing!

**Veritas**

**Chapter 5: "Won't Get Fooled Again"**

Rain had just begun to fall steadily as Lois shoved Clark into the first yellow cab that screeched to a halt for them in front of the _Daily Planet_. Unfortunately, Clark reminded Lois that in their haste to escape the office (before Perry saw Lois sneaking out to work a case that wasn't technically hers) – they'd forgotten an umbrella.

_So much for being prepared._ _But then, it's the boy scouts who are_ 'always prepared'_, right? Even…big blue ones…_

Lois' frown deepened as she thought of Superman. _He'd been prepared, alright. It must have taken some serious forethought to plan to follow-up our love making with a' memory-swipe chaser'. That over-protective son-of-ah– _

"Lois? You're uh…twisting your notes into shreds."

Lois startled out of her vindictive thoughts about the Man of Steel at the sound of Clark's low voice. She looked down and noticed, much to her dismay, that she had crumpled a couple sheets of her notes on the antique store break-ins into a wad in her fist.

"Dammit," she muttered, trying to straighten them into a legible sheet. She sighed, trying to rein her temper back into a tamer state – all the while feeling Clark's gentle gaze upon her.

She glanced back at him, and he shifted nervously beside her. "What is it, Clark?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just…for a minute there... you looked like you wanted to wring someone's neck, the way you were wringing that paper."

Lois turned her gaze out the water-streaked window, "S'nothing, Clark. Just a little unfinished business, I guess."

Clark cleared his throat, and scooted a margin closer to Lois. The backseat of the cab was, to say the least, cozy – but Lois had jumped in beside Clark to escape the rain, while still keeping a few inches to separate them. Now, Clark had closed those few inches, and Lois felt a sudden chill snake down her spine. But, she was far from being cold…

Clark pushed his glasses up, and then looked down into Lois' face. She could see traces of uncertainty there, hidden behind something else. Something deeper…and she was caught by the way his eyes seemed so strikingly…blue. _Since when has Clark had_ blue _eyes?_

"I know something has been bothering you today. You've seemed – distracted…upset. And then, with the coffee this morning," his eyes suddenly darted away from hers, an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck.

Lois quirked a half-smile at the man before her. "Honestly, Clark. The way you act, one would think you'd never touched–" but Lois faltered. The memory of Clark's feather-light touch on her scalded knee came racing back into her mind's eye.

She'd sat there, initially shocked that Clark 'introvert-award-winner' Kent had touched her in such a tender – _and_ _downright intimate way_ – and found that she couldn't move either. She had watched the way his eyes had glazed over, as if caught in a storm of memory – his breath quickening until his unusually broad chest was heaving. _Since when does Clark Kent hit the weights? Has he always been that big?_

All of this was nothing compared to the heat Lois felt radiating from mild-mannered Clark. His fingers had felt almost as hot as the coffee that had scalded her skin, but they were soft, tentative. The sensation had raced up her nerve-endings like an electrical storm – a current of desire and longing – only Lois couldn't understand what it meant. Her heart had gone into rapid-fire palpitations. Why should she be getting these irrational feelings from Clark? _Of all people…_

Lois jerked when Clark spoke again. "Lois?"

"Oh. Uh…nothing." She looked down at the close proximity of their bodies. She shivered again – this time it was from the eerie feeling of warmth permeating her skin though her coat and blouse – uncannily _familiar_ warmth. Coming from Clark.

_This is ridiculous, Lois. This is Clark! Meek, shy, 'please-and-thank-you' Clark! Just because…sometimes his presence feels just like–_ she swallowed hard. _And…yeah…so he's got blue eyes! Really, really _blue _eyes…so do a lot of guys! Get it together, Lane!_

"Don't take 15th street, it'll be blocked off by now," she said suddenly to the cab driver, desperate to pull herself out of her disturbing thoughts.

Clark had pulled out his own notepad and was flipping through the pages. "Three east-side antiques stores hit in the span of a week. And two people dead."

The deep inflection in his usually high-pitched voice caught Lois' attention. _Just like when he'd said that I_ _was_ hurt – _with the coffee_… _that tone…_

"What do you think is going on?"

Lois shook her head a little, "No idea. Maybe someone's great aunt Gertie gave away a lost Rembrandt or something. People are usually willing to do some pretty awful things for money."

Clark breathed out through his nose and looked straight out through the cab's windshield – the set of his shoulders changing somewhat.

"I know," he admitted quietly.

---------------------

Several minutes later the yellow cab slowed to a halt near a curb. The rain was now beating down in earnest, thunder rumbled through the air so frequently it drowned out the sounds of the bustling city. Those unfortunate to find themselves walking shoved their way down the sidewalks, using their umbrellas like impromptu shields held out before them. No one seemed to care who they mowed down while shuffling through the puddles – as long as they could get where they were going and out of the sheeting downpour.

Clark looked around. "I guess this is it."

Suddenly, Lois leaned over him, attempting to look out the window to the opposite side of the street. Her torso was completely sprawled over Clark's lap.

"Oh! Of _course_ – it _had_ to be on the other side of the street. Hey, buddy!" she called to the cabbie, "Couldn't take the time to put us on the other side, since that _is_ where we are trying to go?"

Lois missed Clark's eyes going impossibly wide when her body draped over his lap. She missed the way his throat began working to swallow, the pink that rose in his cheeks – they way he stiffened and reached out to grab the hand strap connected to the ceiling of the cab, as if all his control and life depended on it...

"Sorry, lady. Cutting a U-turn on this two-way street, this time of day… and in _this_ weather ain't worth it," the cabbie said, with out a trace of remorse.

"Swell," Lois muttered, leaning further onto a helpless Clark's lap. She could barely make out the yellow tape that read 'Police Line – Do Not Cross' and the store sign that read _Monica's Attic_.

_Looks like we're going to have to make a dash for it._ _And get drenched…perfect_.

Just then, she heard the whine of metal bending under stress, followed by the loud – _Snap_! – of metal and leather giving way.

"I'm sorry!" Clark squeaked. In his hand was the leather hand-strap, complete with its thick, metal connecting-ring twisted out of shape and snapped in half. "I – uh…geez. I'm sorry, really. It just…." He swallowed again, looking sheepishly between Lois and the strap in his hand.

"Clark!" Lois gaped, as she pulled herself off him and was about to dig in her purse for cab fare. "Whoa, go easy on the guy's car…what happened?"

Clark quickly fished his wallet out and handed the cabbie – who was by now staring slack-jawed at the young reporter – a few extra bills. "Here, this is for the ride. And… uh…a little extra for the …damage." He plopped the wad of bills in the cabbie's hand along with the strap and bent metal.

Lois eyed him curiously as they made to exit the cab. Clark half-shrugged and gave her a lop-sided, innocent grin. "Leather dry-rot," he said, by way of explanation, and guided Lois out into the torrential rain.

The two ran across the street, Clark with his hand protectively grasping Lois elbow, putting himself between her and the oncoming traffic. Lois darted to the curb and under the awning of the store. Futilely they both tried to shake as much of the water off as they could.

"Well, these shoes have seen their last rainstorm," Lois bemoaned her ruined pumps. She smoothed her wet locks out of her face, and wiped the raindrops off her cheeks. _My hair has seen better days too_…she noticed her reflection in the store's plate-glass window.

She stopped fussing with her hair, when she noticed another reflection. Clark stood just behind her shoulder, swiping at his tweed jacked. His dark hair was plastered to his head, longs strands nearly in his eyes. Water glistened off the strong outline of his jaw – his white dress shirt was plastered to his chest. Lois looked harder – _is there something under his shirt?_ Glancing back up, Lois could have sworn she saw Clark move to take his glasses off…

She whirled around, only to find him using a finger to shove them up on his nose again. He looked down on her with a small smile. He was completely drenched – looking altogether pathetic and adorable…and…_something about that wet hair…_

"Are you two from the _Daily Planet_?" A gruff, male voice behind her made Lois jump. Tearing her eyes away from Clark, she saw a police officer open the door to the shop for them, letting them inside.

"Yeah," Lois said. "Lois Lane and Clark Kent from the _Planet_. Are you Officer…" she fumbled for her notes she'd scribbled from Clark's notepad.

"Berry," Clark finished for her. He smiled and shook the officer's hand. "Thanks for meeting us here."

Officer Berry shrugged. "No problem. They told us the scene has been cleared. Shelly at the department's public relation's office said that you'd want to check out the scene, Kent. Good thing she's got some clout with the chief – and that she _likes_ you." He threw a knowing grin at Clark.

Clark looked down and chuckled shyly. Lois raised a suspicious brow at him.

"Making lots of _friends_ in the police department, Smallville?"

Clark's grin faded and his shoved his glasses up again, "Well, uh... you know, Lois. I needed some information once for a case, and she was helpful."

"Uh-huh," Lois muttered. "I bet she was." _Very helpful._ _They can't resist the farm-boy charm and those big ol' blue eyes_… "Can we check out the area?" She turned back to Officer Berry.

"Sure. I'll be out here if you need me," he said, and walked out the door to sit on bench under the awning with his newspaper.

Lois started toward the back of the store, where the stairs to the basement would be. Clark followed beside her, flipping through the itemized list the officer had just handed him. Lois caught herself gazing at him – marveling at the breadth of his shoulders. His wet hair – which he'd slicked back off his face with a hand – caught her attention again. _That look... reminds me of something. Something I've seen on someone else… recently_.

An errant curl flipped forward on Clark's brow, but he must have noticed it…and Lois staring, because he quickly pushed it back up into his bangs.

_Nah! You're being stupid, Lois. Lack of sleep…_

"The owner was attacked on the stairs to the basement." Clark said.

Lois shook her head – _get your head in the game, girl_. "Basement it is, then."

------------

After surveying the damage that was the entire basement, Lois knew they were at an impasse. The stars had been marked where the store owner had been found, unconscious. The basement itself was small, and littered with debris: wingback chairs, desks, cabinetry of all kinds and trunks that looked like they'd caved in under the pressure of the water that had filled the space. Lois could still see the water line near the ceiling. It was cool and damp, the smell of mildew punctuating the air – and the intermittent groan of various pipes and support beams above them.

Clark seemed a little unsure once they got into the heart of the basement. "Looks like the water really pushed against these studs that hold the upstairs flooring."

He gave the ceiling a penetrating stare. "Um…Lois?"

"Hey, Clark," she called from a corner, "How big would you say this hole in the wall is? Three feet? And you can see into the basement of the place next door."

Lois stooped over one of the smashed chests. It had been made of some sort of yellowish wood, carved with intricate patterns on the lid, which was now boasting a gaping hole. She shined a pin-light inside. _Nothing but soggy velvet._ _I wonder what was in here. And if this hole was really caused by water damage…_

"I really think we'd better wrap this up soon, Lois."

She threw a look over her shoulder at Clark, who was staring at the ceiling again, oddly. She rolled her eyes, "Relax. Building inspectors would have checked out the soundness of the ceiling before the crime lab boys got down here."

The ceiling groaned again, as if to answer her. _Okay, check that. I really_ hope _the building inspectors got here to check this place out._

Lois jotted a few notes down. "What was taken from here, again?"

"A gold pedestal. No notes on age or origin yet." Clark nervously flipped through his notes while sidling up to Lois. "The first store reported that a twelfth century frame had been stolen. But so far, the second store hasn't reported anything missing."

"That's where the two guys were killed, right?"

Clark nodded gravely. "Why kill two people, but not take anything?"

Lois shoved a piece of a chair with her foot. "Maybe what they wanted wasn't there. Already moved, or something."

An instant, the ceiling above them gave a mighty groan – cracking and sagging from the water damage. Lois didn't even have time to get a good look before the entire top floor of the shop came roaring down on their heads.

"LOOK OUT!" Clark's bellow could be heard over the roar of masonry and wood falling down.

Lois screamed and fell to the ground, covering her head with her arms and curling into the fetal position. _Oh, my god! We're going to die…and I never told Jason…anything! Or Superman…_

With what she was sure was to be her last breath, Lois breathed out a quite plea. "Superman!" Wood and debris rained down on her hitting her legs and arms. But just before she fainted from fright and the choking lack of breathable air – she peeked out from beneath her arms.

_It's a hallucination!…_was her last thought before something heavy struck her head. Her last vision(be it a hallucination or not) was of Clark Kent – kneeling over her, arms out to the sides bracing a _three ton_ beam and half the _floor_ of the store above – on his shoulders!

----------

Lois felt like she'd swallowed half a beach worth of sand. She struggled to swallow as she opened her eyes. _Why am I wet? And it's bright… why is it so bright in this basement?_

She found herself lying on a sidewalk outside the building. Sirens were wailing in the distance, but the rain had finally let up. Blinking away the cobwebs in her mind, Lois remembered what had happened.

"Clark!" she choked. She tried to get up, to run to help her partner who still had to be trapped in the cave-in. But two strong, warm hands held her still.

"Shh. It's alright, Lois."

Lois looked up into two extremely worried blue eyes. A field of rich blue material, with scarlet blazing across it covered her vision. Superman gently pushed a piece of hair out of Lois' eyes.

"You," she blinked, trying to focus, "You're here. I – I called for you…" Her head began to pound.

Superman smiled gently, "I heard you. I always do."

Lois scooted away from his protective warmth, her face twisting into concern. "Clark! Where is he? He was trapped…I mean, _we_ were trapped. The ceiling caved in…" _Oh god! Tell me he's not still in there_! Lois scrambled to her feet, trying to get back around to the store-front. The police and fire department were beginning to converge on the scene.

Superman caught her arm and carefully held her still. "Lois, Clark is fine. He–," he paused, looking at the store as if trying to find an explanation, "I helped him and now he's helping Officer Berry. The officer must have heard the floor start to go, and tried to help, but got caught when the flooring fell out from under him."

Lois looked at the hero, as if unconvinced.

"I promise you, Lois. Clark is alright."

Lois pulled out of his grasp again, checking herself and dusting off. _I can't be near you yet. It's still too fresh._ She looked out into the street and noticed a dirty and bloodied police officer being lead out of the store by some firefighters. But Clark was nowhere in sight.

"Wait…where is Clark? He's not with the officer," she noted aloud, though more to herself than anyone else.

She could feel Superman coming up behind her and she turned to face him. His face was troubled…and a little – _anxious_? _Have I ever seen this man anxious before? No…not unless there are certain green, glowing rocks around…_

Superman looked down on Lois, and reached out to her face. "He's probably with the paramedics. In fact, you'd better have that looked at."

Lois pulled away from his hand at the last second, touching her temple. Her fingers came away red with blood.

"It's nothing, just a cut." She started to move away, pushing away the sting from the disappointment in his face. "I have to go check on my partner. Thanks for pulling us out," she said curtly.

Lois didn't wait for a reply. She walked out into the street, worriedly scanning all the ambulances for Clark. A couple of paramedics saw her and tried to check her wounds, but Lois being the stubborn reporter she was, shoved them away and asked for her partner. He was nowhere to be seen.

_There is no way he left me here. Superman said he got him out…but where…?_ Lois flashed back to the moments before the blackout. _No! No way, Lane! That was just a product of a crisis environment. Clark probably got conked on the head just like you._ She turned around in a circle in the street, taking in the madness that was surrounding her, confused. She saw Superman standing alone on the sidewalk for a moment, his eyes glued to her…

"There is no way," she mumbled, raking her hands through her muddy hair. "Clark couldn't have–"

"Couldn't have, what?" Clark's worried tenor voice behind her made Lois nearly come unglued.

She whirled around to find Clark standing dirty and disheveled before her. His clothes were ripped in several places and were covered in dust and grime – his hair had been mussed, but surprisingly, his face and skin seemed unharmed. No cuts, not even a smudge of sheetrock on his face.

"Clark!" Lois yelled, and flung herself into his arms. "Are you alright? I thought… I thought I saw you get hit with a huge beam down there."

She stood back and looked at him. Clark was, as always, adjusting his glasses, seeming to try to get over the shock of Lois jumping into his arms.

"Never scare me like that again!" Lois smacked him hard on the bicep. _Ouch_! She shook her hand, _arms like iron!_

"Sorry, Lois." Clark sheepishly flinched when she slapped him. "Actually, Superman pulled us out." He added – his voice lower and more sincere, "I guess he stayed to watch over you, while I checked on the officer."

Lois furrowed her brows. _Wait a sec, I just saw the officer get led out by the _firefighters…

"Yeah, but…" Sure enough, there was Officer Berry, being tended to by the paramedics. Clark had been nowhere to be found until just a second ago. He hadn't helped Berry – at least, not that Lois had seen, anyway. _Maybe Superman can tell us what happened right after the cave-in._

Lois turned back to the corner – only to find it empty. _I_ _know I just saw him not more than five seconds before Clark showed up!_

"We should really get your head looked at, Lois." Clark touched her elbow, "Lois? What's wrong?"

"Dammit. He's gone again!"

----------

**TBC… **

**Please READ and REVIEW! **Just wanted to Lois/Clark fun in here. Darius should be back in the next chapter. Which it seems that Fridays are going to be my update days. Unless the Muse gets in gear earlier in the week and knocks out all my stupid distractions! Bad Muse…bad! Don't forget the Feed the Need and review!

**Oh, BTW**…has anyone noticed that all but one of my chapter titles have also been song titles? Yeah, thank **_Grey's Anatomy_** for that idea. I've always wanted to do that with a fic!


	6. Inside Out

**A/N: ** Sorry for the little delay! Enjoy and HUGE thanks to all who've read and left all those wonderful reviews! They mean more than you'll know! Special thanks to Barbra (**htbthomas**) for still being able to beta this, even after the beast of a week she's had. _Huggles_ to Barbra!

**Veritas**

**Chapter 6: "Inside Out"**

The night sky above Metropolis was an infinite blanket of blue-black. Though the star's shine was mostly obliterated by the city lights, a few plucky dots of light punctuated a few points across the matte of rich darkness. The storm had cleared, leaving the air dewy, with the fresh scent of rain and wet vegetation. The rain had brought a welcome respite from the late summer heat – the temperature dropping a few degrees and a cool breeze wafting through the shrubs and trees surrounding the Darius estate.

Darius stood on one of his many balconies, staring out over the rolling grounds of his estate. Over the tree line, he could detect the honking traffic – the thunderous melody of the hustle and bustle of the city.

He looked down at the previous day's paper in his hands. '_Another antique emporium on the east side of the city fell victim to robbery and substructure flooding,'_ he read.

_Odd._ _Seems like I saw on the news earlier that a third place was hit early this morning, and there was some sort of flooring collapse later in the day. I guess that'll make headlines tomorrow._

It was hardly unusual to read about store robberies in the _Planet_, these days – even with the return of Superman. It wasn't as if he could prevent _everything_ bad that happened across a huge city like Metropolis. Darius smiled wistfully. What he would have given to have a superhero like Superman in the world, when he was little. To have that kind of hope, a belief that there was someone who cared about the people of Earth like that… a demigod who was so ultimately _good_. It might have made growing up in European boarding schools, alone, a little happier.

Kids needed a superhero to believe in, when everyone and everything else in their lives had let them down. Darius' mind flashed to a memory of hearing the news of his parent's death – Aunt Margaret telling him what had happened, then promptly advising that he put on a 'stiff-upper lip'. His world had been turned inside out, and the only thing he wanted was to be able to close his eyes – open them again – and have everything as it was. But Fate had other plans…

"You're the man of the family now, Darius. It's time you acted as such," she'd said. _The man of the family…the leader._ _All at the age of seven. Some childhood. _

Wearily, Darius ran a hand through his sandy-blond hair. Despite his aunt's urgings, he hadn't been able to put the death of the foundry man out of his mind. He'd barely slept since it happened.

Deciding that the best way to deal with it was to look into it, Darius retreated indoors – walking to his office where his files and brandy awaited. Pouring himself a tumbler of brandy, he called up the _Davis_ _Foundry's_ files on the computer. When the files appeared, Darius skimmed through them – reading their quarterly figures, deficits and expenditures on products.

_Well, Margaret was right about one thing, this poor place hasn't been posting any profits in two years. The larger conglomerates of foundries and steel manufacturing plants here in Metropolis can better handle the orders we need to send overseas. What a shame – _he noticed the number of employees who'd been given their pink slips recently. He came upon a group photo of the workers, posing in front of the plant on its five year anniversary. Fifty sodden, sooty faces of men and women grinned happily back at Darius from the screen – but one face stood out…

Darius leaned in toward the screen, squinting. There was a man on the third row…with close-cropped dark hair, and wide eyes. _Those eyes!_

"Whoa," he breathed, feeling a mixture of excitement and queasiness. "That's him. That's the guy…"

"What guy?" Darius jolted back away from the screen, but sighed in relief when he saw who'd entered. Marcus Hamill, clad in much more casual attire – a dark Polo shirt and khaki slacks – strode into the office. In his hands he carried several books, which he promptly placed on Darius' desk and gave the younger man a curious look.

"Marcus!" Darius chuckled, "Sorry, I forgot you were supposed to come by tonight."

Hamill adjusted his thin, wire-framed glasses and smiled. "I brought those hand books you wanted for medical supplies. They should give you a good idea of the cost of some of those medical gadgets you'll be sending to Saudi Arabia." He rounded the desk and frowned down at the laptop computer. "What have we here? Coal miner's union?"

"No. Former employees of a foundry in Edge City that has fallen victim to _dear_ Aunt Margaret's corporate pruning shears."

"Oh," Hamill said knowingly.

Darius turned back to the picture, staring at the man again. "This guy," he pointed, "He's the one who made that attempt on our lives in the parking garage the other day."

Hamill looked closely at the photo. "Doesn't seem like the lone gunman type, does he?"

Darius took a sip of his brandy, still contemplating the photo and the little write-up of the foundry on his screen. "Getting canned and your job site getting shut down can turn mild-mannered men into …something else entirely."

"I wonder why Margaret took such great interest in shutting down _this_ little business," Hamill pondered, picking up the newspaper and flipping through it thoughtfully. "There are plenty of small businesses nearby that are subsidiaries of _Daedalus_, some with stats just as poor as the _Davis_ _Foundry_."

Darius rubbed the stubble forming under his chin. "That, my friend…is a _very_ good question."

Suddenly, Darius turned to Hamill and stood, reaching for the newspaper in the older man's hand.

"What the-? Darius, if you weren't finished with this paper, you could have just said so!" Hamill nearly fumbled the entire ream of paper as Darius maniacally started shuffling through each page.

"There was a picture… from one of the antique stores," he muttered excitedly.

Hamill shoved the remainder of the paper into his young boss' hands. "Yeah, two that have been robbed and flooded. Well…three if you count the one from today. And…?" he prompted, confused.

Darius slung sections of the _Planet_ to the far side of his desk, finally stopping when he came to a short continuation of the robbery story on an inner page, followed by a photo of the scene.

"Here," he said, pointing, "The second place – the one where the two guys got killed – _The Hidden Door_? Look, they have pictures of those two guys. _Supposedly_ clerks in the shop."

Hamill looked over the photo. Sure enough, a photographer had snapped a shot of the two bodies, just before the coroner closed the body bags. They looked to be two men in their thirties, wearing overalls of some kind. Beside the larger picture were two insets – DMV photos of the two men. One had a mop of red hair and freckles – the other, brown hair and blue eyed.

Hamill read aloud, "Eric O'Neill and Daniel McDonovan."

Darius nodded, a slow, wary smile curving the corners of his mouth. "Good, hard working Irish boys…" he said, cryptically. When Hamill looked up at him, Darius turned and pointed to the photo on his computer screen.

Hamill had to adjust his glasses, to make sure he was seeing it right. His head turned from the screen, to the paper…and back again. Darius had looked three times to make sure.

There, in the picture – faces covered in foundry soot – were two unmistakable faces. The red hair was barely discernable from the dirt covering it, while the other man's blue eyes shown vividly back at them from the picture.

Below their group picture, written in amongst the foundry's employee list, were two names: _Daniel McDonovan and Eric O'Neill._

--------------------------

The sun had just begun to peek above the rolling plains – the wheat and sorghum crops were transformed into a blaze of yellow-gold as the sunlight bathed them. The farmers were beginning their morning chores, and Clark could hear the whirring of tractors being fired up – ready to meet the day of plowing, shearing, or towing.

As he flew over the fields, slowing from super-sonic speed, Clark allowed himself to take in the sights, sounds and smells that had been a constant in his younger days. They filled him with nostalgia, a longing for somewhat simpler times. _Since when has my life ever been simple, though? Always trying to fit in, control my powers…keeping secrets. Whoever said '_youth is wasted on the young' _should have walked a mile in _my _shoes. _

His thoughts turned back to the afternoon before, when he and Lois had gone to check out the scene at _Monica's Attic_. Clark could have sworn Lois saw him catch that beam, just in the knick of time. He frowned, slowing his flight when he caught sight of a familiar dirt road. Silently, Clark descended and in a blur, changed into a pair of faded blue jeans and a blue tee-shirt. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he decided that it would be less conspicuous for him to walk up to his mother's house. He wasn't entirely sure she'd be there alone. Ben Hubbard was a nice guy, and Clark was happy his mother wasn't lonely. But Ben wasn't his father.

He desperately needed someone to talk to, and it was times like this when Clark missed his father so much he almost couldn't breathe. Oh sure, he had a hologram to talk to in his Fortress, but it wasn't the same thing. _Not by a long shot._

Clark kicked at a rock, sending it flying far down the road, a cloud of dust in its wake. He remembered how Lois' face had almost been obscured by dust, when he carried her out of the collapsed store. He couldn't help the fear that nearly closed his throat off when he saw blood on her head. But, using his x-ray vision, he was able to tell that she had no serious injuries. _And…the conk on the head wasn't exactly at a bad time. If she _had _seen me, holding that beam…_

Clark knew he was going to have to tell her the whole truth. She'd been so cold toward him when she realized it was _Superman_ who'd pulled her out – _despite the fact that she called me!_ – and it had stung. _How can I dump all the facts about my identity on her now? When she can barely look at me as Superman?_ No matter how he yearned to have it all out in the open, the niggling fear that he might push her away entirely with the sudden outpouring of cover-ups and lies – was too much for him to bear. _I'll tell her…I will…just, not now._

Before he knew it, Clark found himself at the junction of the road to the Kent farm, and the main road. He stood for a moment, looking at the old frame house – the huge, faded barn where he'd spent many a day in solitude, contemplating his place in the world. As he came up the walkway, the screen door opened and Martha Kent stepped out, carrying a small box which she set on the porch. She was about to turn to go back inside, when she heard a soft, "Hey, Mom."

Martha turned, surprised at first, then beamed. "Clark! My goodness! When did you get here?"

Clark ascended the steps and enveloped the woman in a tight hug. When he hung on for a moment longer than usual, Martha pulled back to look into her son's eyes.

"Clark, what's wrong? Something's troubling you," she stated. When Clark glanced back inside the house, she added, "Oh, Ben has gone onto the new house in Montana, getting things set up. I'm finishing packing here."

_They're still going to Montana. Everything is changing…soon I won't even have this place to come back to._

Martha, always intuitive when it came to her son's thoughts, guided him to a chair on the porch.

"Just because we are moving, doesn't mean you won't have a place to come to… when you need me."

Clark twitched a half smile – _I think she's the one with superpowers sometimes_. "Things have been happening…with me…and–"

"You and Lois?" she raised a brow.

Slowly, Clark began to tell her about recent events, Lois confronting Superman about _their_ son – how miserable he felt about leaving her and robbing her of her memories. Martha listened, hands folded in her lap silently. Clark was suddenly surprised when she didn't react the way he thought she would, when he told her about Jason.

Martha said, taking in his befuddled expression, "I saw him, son. At the hospital, when Lois brought him in to see you. I knew he was yours. I could tell Lois knew he was yours then, too."

Clark looked at his hands. "If I had known…"

"Well, you didn't," she answered shortly. "And beating yourself up over it doesn't do you any good. Nor your family."

Clark swallowed thickly. _My family…_

Martha regarded her son for a moment. "You still love her…don't you?" It wasn't a question and he knew it.

Clark's eyes filled with longing – a terrible, heart-twisting, soul-tormenting _longing_. As he stood, looking out over the fields, he felt his chest constrict, almost like it was being pressed in a vice. _Do I love her? I've loved her since the moment I laid eyes on her at the Planet. She's the mother of my son…_

"Mom," he said softly, "I never stopped loving her. When I wasn't sure if I was going to go back…back to Metropolis, back to being Superman – she was the one thing that stayed in my mind. I _had_ to see her. And when I did," he paused smiling to himself, "I _knew_ where I belonged. It'd been five years, but to me…to me, it seemed like just _yesterday_."

Martha smiled. "After all this time…she must be quite a girl."

Clark's mind immediately jumped back to the cab ride, when Lois had pressed her body against his lap. Her body against his – he felt his blood boiling, his heart was ready to jump out of his chest. It had been so long since they had _touched_ – since that night in the Fortress. But Clark's memory was razor sharp, and being near her like that, brought all those feelings and sensations raging to the surface. Had he been able to, Clark was sure he could have rocketed straight up in the air, out of the cab and exploded in a tidal wave of emotion – _to hell with any witnesses!_ But, he was also embarrassed with his obvious lack of control over his body with Lois' close proximity. _You'd better get a grip on yourself, Clark…you won't be able to explain away tearing up cabs like that for long. _

"Well, I guess that answers my question," Martha chuckled, after seeing her son's face turn a vivid shade of pink.

A full-gleaming bashful grin lit Clark's face up for the first time in what seemed like forever. After a moment, he sat back down beside his mother.

"I don't know, Mom," he said scrubbing his hands over his face. "Everything's turned inside out and backwards. I erase the memories of the woman I love, and then _leave_…come back and find out that I left a _son_ behind! And Lois… is with Richard…"

"Oh Clark, surely you didn't think you could just come back and pick up where you left off with her?"

_Well… geez_. _I'd _hoped…_but I guess…_ "I don't know, Mom. I guess I didn't really think that part through," Clark mumbled.

"Clark, honey, I know you thought you were protecting her – erasing her memory and all. Maybe you were…but I think she's proven herself to be a strong woman. Hasn't she?"

Clark nodded, chewing his bottom lip.

"I think, when she finds out the whole truth… she might surprise you."

_Yeah, _surprise – _as in, beating me over the head with a kryptonite club…?_ Clark sighed.

He saw the sense in what his mother was saying. Lois had a right to know everything. But now? She needed some time to cool off…and he needed some more time to think. While he mulled over the possible outcomes of Lois finding out – _from him_ – all the secrets he'd been hiding all those years, Martha stood.

"Trust me, Clark. I know it seems daunting now…but things will work out. Where there's _love_, there are always possibilities." She bent and kissed the crown of his head, before retreating into the house.

Clark remained on the porch, elbows resting on his knees and his chin propped on his knuckles, lost in thought. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear grasshoppers buzzing their late summer tunes, as the sun climbed high into the sky.

_Possibilities…_

**TBC…**

**A/N2**: I know a lot of people have had Clark go and have a heart-to-heart with Momma Kent. This was a transitional scene for Clark, while he thinks about how to tell Lois everything, not knowing that she's planning to find out on her own. Perhaps. (grin) I didn't want to get into what Martha would think about him having a son too much, this was all about Clark. Like? Dislike? Totally hate? Let me know!


	7. All At Once

**Veritas**

**Chapter 7: "All At Once"**

"Lois? Are you alright?"

"Fine, Richard. I'll be out in a minute." Lois stood at the sink in their master bathroom. She was still staring at the same spot on her forehead she had been looking at for the past fifteen minutes. The scrape was less than an inch long, and like all head lacerations, it had bled a lot worse than it actually was.

Since the incident at the antiques store, Lois had felt like she'd been walking around in a fog. It was like she was trying to grab onto a thought, only it kept wafting just out of reach. _What did I really see down there in that basement? Did Superman take both of us out at the same time, and Clark…just…disappeared? While I was with Superman?_

She had allowed Richard to fuss over her, while he drove them home from the _Planet_. She and Clark had trudged into the media room – dirty, disheveled and bloody. _Well, _I _was…Clark seems to have a miraculous ability to avoid getting cut-up or bruised. He didn't have a mark on him…_

Richard nearly had _kittens_ when Lois had told him what happened. The paramedics had bandaged her head, and even though it pounded like hell, she assured him and Perry that she was alright. Perry had ordered her and Clark to go home, and while Richard made arrangements to pick up Jason from school, Lois silently pulled her things together at her desk. Clark hovered behind her.

Lois said, glancing over her shoulder, "I swear, if one more person asks if I'm alright…" She sighed, thinking better of her tone, and turned to look at Clark fully. There he stood, in all his dusty awkwardness, looking at her cautiously from above the frames of his glasses.

"Sorry, Clark. I didn't mean to sound…" she paused, "…are _you_ alright?" She noticed he was fidgeting again. Maybe the farm boy had been rattled by the cave-in more than she thought.

"Me? Oh, I'm fine, Lois. I was just worried about you. You looked like something was bothering you," he answered.

Lois crammed the crumpled, tattered notepad she'd been using on the scene into her purse. "Well, it looks like I'll have to spend my evening rewriting my notes, since they look like I dropped this pad in a mud puddle and _walked_ over it a hundred times."

Clark looked at her purse, then back to her face. His eyes widened, "Oh, your notes! Here," he passed her his own notepad, which suspiciously looked brand new. "You can use my notes to help fill in what you can't decipher."

Lois took the notebook and gave him a half-smile. "Thanks."

Clark opened his mouth to say something else, when Richard returned.

"C'mon, honey. Let's go get the munchkin and get you home." Richard looped an arm around Lois' shoulders and guided her away. As she left, Lois thought she saw the oddest look in Clark's eyes. A mixture of loneliness… and _something_ else.

Gingerly, Lois traced her fingers over the cut on her forehead. The pale skin around the cut was beginning to turn a purplish color – the start of a bruise she knew she was going to have trouble concealing. Sighing, Lois pushed herself away from the sink, and leaned against the opposite wall of the bathroom. Her hair hung in damp tendrils around her face, the steam from her shower still hung in the air – much like the fog clinging to her brain. Lois narrowed her eyes at her own reflection.

_This is ridiculous, Lois! It's bad enough you can't even remember a thing about your night with Superman, the conception of your child – but you can't even be clear what happened several hours ago! You're an investigative reporter and you rely on your memory of details of cases, things people have said in interviews…Geez! You can even remember the first article you wrote for your senior journalism class in college, for-the-love-of-Mike! Think! You didn't get hit on the head_ that _hard_!

Lois could remember talking to Clark about the hole in the wall…the ceiling giving way…Clark yelling. Scrunching her eyes shut, Lois called back the hazy memory of what she couldn't bring herself to believe. Clark was crouched over her – his eyes were filled with determined strength and fear. His arms were spread to the side – a three ton iron support beam was braced across his shoulders. The way his jaw clenched…_had his glasses fallen askew on his face?_

Lois jumped when she heard Richard knock softly on the bathroom door again. "Lois, you've been in there for almost forty minutes. You didn't fall or something, did you?" He opened the door a crack and looked in.

Lois ran her hands over her face. "No, I didn't fall asleep in the tub either."

"Well, head injuries and all. Can't be too careful." Richard smiled tenderly at her. "You know, I personally don't care if you come to work in your robe – in fact, I'd like it. But Perry might ask questions."

"Oh, crap!" Lois pushed past Richard and saw the clock.

Richard watched her fling the robe across the room and chuckled while she scrambled into her under things and a pair of slacks. Standing in her bra and slacks, Lois toweled her hair off and started running a comb through it. _See what all of this crazy, mind-blitzing gets you, Lois? Late to work!_ She pulled a blouse on, buttoning a few buttons before going after her hair again.

"Lois, I know I'm probably going to get my head chewed off for asking this, but what's been bothering you lately?" Richard sat on their bed, watching her. When she turned, looking wearily at him, he added, "And you can not say 'nothing', because I don't believe it."

Lois twisted her hair up into a clip and began buttoning her blouse. "Well, we've kind of had a hectic couple of weeks, Richard. I mean, having a new continent _grown_ offshore, earthquakes, super-criminals–"

Richard cut her off, "No, not that. Afterwards. Now that all that madness is over with, you still seem like there is something bothering you. And it bothers me that you won't share it." He looked at his fiancé, taking her opened-mouth silence as an answer. "Lois, I know you. I know when you've got a lead on something and it won't leave you alone. I know it when you've been trying to work on something – usually something you're not _supposed_ to be working on – and it's doing nothing but aggravating you. We used to talk about stuff like that, you know?"

He rose and walked over to her, helping her fasten the last two buttons. His brows were furrowed with concern, but Lois could see something rising in his deep eyes.

Doubt.

_I can't tell him about this. I can't tell him how much Superman has been on my mind lately_. She turned away and finished getting ready, while Richard followed her with his gaze. _And Jason! Oh, my God! How can I tell him about that? Suck it up, Lane, you are going to have to sooner or later. Preferably later. Like…after I figure a few things out myself, with regard to a certain blue-eyed boy scout._

-----------------------

The cab ride to the _Planet_ went in silence. They dropped Jason off at school, but not before the munchkin could present Lois with another drawing of the caped hero flying hand-in hand with a woman, across the river toward the city. A woman, with long brown hair. Lois all but cringed when she saw the picture – but she hid it by kissing her son on the cheek and thanking him. The picture was folded quickly and stuffed into her briefcase while Richard said his goodbyes to the child. She knew there was no way Jason saw her clandestine flight with Superman that night, but it still unnerved her. _And the boy is getting better with his drawings too. A little _too _good_.

While they rode on to the _Daily Planet_, and Lois concentrated on the cars passing outside her window, Richard's cell phone went off. She could tell in an instant by his worn-out sigh, as he looked at the display, that Perry White was on the other end of the line.

"Yes, we're on our way in. No, she's…" Lois could feel Richard glancing her way, "…she's fine."

After a few more minutes, they arrived at the _Planet_, and Lois hurriedly exited the cab. Richard bounded to catch up.

"Perry wanted to know why you haven't turned in that article on Lucius Darius yet."

Lois answered, "Because I haven't finished it yet. Not that it's any big loss. So they'll have to run an extra clothes ad and an excerpt about the newest movie at the multiplex on page three instead. Big _woo_."

"I know I'm always telling you not to listen to Perry when he gives you assignments you hate…but this once, maybe you should do the article he wants." His tone had an almost imperceptible edge to it.

Lois gave him a sideways glace in the elevator. "What? You're telling me to play it safe?"

"Is that so bad? That I might want my fiancé around long enough to actually marry her?" Richard tried to smile. "Besides, I thought anything was better than having Superman shoved into your life."

_You have a point there_. "Look, I just don't see anything newsworthy about Darius. Yeah, so he's the largest import/export mogul on the East Coast. He owns more of the major businesses and corporations in Metropolis than anyone, and he's richer than Midas. I don't see why I had to be pulled off the antiques store case to do a filler story on the 'Blond Billionaire'."

Richard shrugged, "Maybe he has dealings with some of the more _nefarious_ business men in Metropolis."

Lois snorted, "Who _doesn't_? I think the mayor himself would fall into _that_ category, Richard."

"But it's something you can look into. Who knows? Maybe you'll stumble onto _something_," he said. "And it would be a bit safer than running around in half-condemned buildings that collapse."

Lois gave him a mischievous smile. "You say 'something' like he's got ties to Lex Luthor, of all people. And besides, it wasn't like I was creeping around that place alone. Clark was there," she said brightly, as if that made it all okay.

Richard just shook his head. As they stepped from the elevator into the war room, Lois thought about what Richard was _really_ saying. He'd never asked her to play it safe, _except when I was pregnant_ – and now, all at once, he was concerned about her knack for finding herself in risky position while chasing a story. Lois wondered if this change had anything to do with all the harrowing ordeals they'd been involved in lately. Though, she thought he should have been more concerned for her well being while on a case back before Superman's return. She'd still managed to get into a few scrapes during _his_ absence – shouldn't Richard have more peace of mind now that _he_ was there to look after her? Lois stomach churned…._maybe _that _was the problem_.

Lois arrived at her desk and started unloading her briefcase. Richard sidled up to her, flipping through some papers that one of the newsroom runners had just handed him.

"Do me a favor? Try to steer clear of any condemned buildings today?" he muttered, raising a brow at her while still staring at his papers.

Lois sat at her desk. As she looked up at Richard, out of the corner of her eye she saw movement at Clark's desk. When she looked over at him, Clark was staring her way, giving her a sudden, dorky grin and a wave.

"I'll try," she said after a beat, "But no promises."

----------------------

Lois spent much of the morning recopying Clark's notes on their findings at _Monica's Attic_. Since she hadn't heard about any more break-ins, it seemed whoever was behind it was taking the day off. This suited Lois- she had her hands full tracking down any leads on the stolen pieces from the first robberies. She decided the easiest way to find out if the pilfered antiques had any street value, was to contact any 'fences' she knew of. Which wouldn't be too many – precious few of Metropolis' 'entrepreneurs of stolen merchandise' wanted to chat with the _Daily Planet's_ ace reporter. But, she still had more contacts in the seedier parts of town than Clark.

Clark had tried to start a conversation with her several times, only to be halted when Lois abruptly interrupted him. He sighed resignedly, and decided talking about the case was a better option.

"I think I located a photo of the pedestal that was taken from one of the stores," he said, shoving his glasses up before placing a printout on Lois' desk. "Its gold, with ten different kinds of semi-precious and precious stones set in it."

Lois looked at the photo. "It could be melted down, after the jewels are removed. Might fetch a high price in the black market stone trade."

"Yeah. Did you hear anything from your…uh…contact?" he asked awkwardly. The way he kept looking at her, Lois was fairly sure talking about this case was the last thing on his mind. Truth be told, her mind kept wandering as well – back to the street in front of the store. _Where had Clark gone? And how did he manage to get out of that cave-in without even a trace of dirt on his face? I was covered in it!_

Lois pulled herself out of her thoughts to answer him. "They're _fences_, Clark. I know you probably don't think much of consorting with minor criminals, with your Smallville morals and all…" the smirk she'd let slip with the snide comment about his upbringing faded when she saw his features harden into a frown.

Lois used to make cracks about him being from Hicksville, USA all the time, oblivious to the fact that they were probably hurting Clark's feelings. But, since he'd been gone for so long – _what? Four years? Or was it five…?_ – she realized that Clark was actually a good reporter, with accurate instincts. He might be nervous, shy, and a bit unpredictable when it came to keeping his appointments and meetings, but he'd proven himself a stand-up guy. _Even if he does get stories from the Chief, that _I _should be covering,_ she thought grudgingly.

"Uhm," Lois cleared her throat, attempting to wave aside her comment, "Sorry, Clark. Anyway…you know how it is. Sometimes when you want the juicy information, you have to get your hands a little dirty."

Clark seemed to relax somewhat, letting a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

Suddenly, a reporter's voice on the nearest TV screen caught their attention: "We are live at the Cornwall Apartments where a gunman has taken an entire family hostage. They have barricaded themselves inside the sixth floor apartment. Police negotiators have been attempting to talk the deranged man out for almost three hours now, and–"

The reporter was cut off by the sound of gun fire and people screaming. Lois stared at the scene wide-eyed for a moment, before she mentally started counting down the seconds before Superman arrived. _One…two…thr–_

"Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, Superman has just arrived on the scene, bursting his way through the outer building wall at blinding–"

Lois huffed silently to herself. _Damn_, _that's fast!_

"Not even _three_ seconds. Clark would you–" But when she turned around, Clark's chair was empty, still slightly turning in place from his exit.

She whipped back to the screen to see Superman helping the family into the arms of the EMTs, and making sure the gunman was in custody. He gave the camera a quick nod – a small smile on his lips. Her features contorted in suspicion_. Now _this _is getting really weird._

When Clark didn't return, Lois decided to seek out a couple of her contacts at the police department. She'd been cooped up in the office for a while, and a walk seemed like a good idea. Too many scenarios about Superman's and Clark's abrupt disappearance were cluttering her head. She walked to the nearest precinct, but her contact was out on a call. The news on all of the TVs was still buzzing with Superman sightings, and Lois had the undeniable urge to roll her eyes.

Leaving the precinct, Lois ambled down through the streets, enjoying the effects of a little fresh air on her weary brain. She saw a figure come out of an alley a block ahead of her, straightening his tie and his glasses.

Lois stopped and peered at him. _What on Earth is he doing here? And in a deserted alley?_ "Clark?"

His eyes were the size of saucers when he saw her. "Lois!"

An electrical crew pulled into the alley as she approached him, two men filing out of the truck to begin work on a power line strung across the alley's entrance. Clark stood gaping, as Lois came to stand before him.

"What are you doing here? And what's with pulling a Houdini at the office?"

He ran his hand through his hair and shrugged a shoulder, "I…uh, had a lead I needed to check up on."

Lois arched a brow. "A lead. What, it was such an emergency you ran out with out your jacket too?"

Clark swallowed as he noticed he was standing there in his white shirt and tie, his vest open a few buttons…and no jacket.

"It's warm out," he blurted.

Lois shifted her weight and placed a hand on her hip, staring at him. _Warm out, huh? Clark with no retro-jacket is like me running out without my purse!_

Suddenly, a strange humming noise buzzed over their heads. The electric company men had extended a cherry-picker to the power line above them to work on it, but the guy in the basket was frantically trying to get as far away from the line as possible.

"The juice just kicked back on, Jack!" the man yelled, just as a plume of sparks exploded from the coupling. The coupling itself popped and sizzled and the wire burst into flame. It melted away from the wall and snapped.

Clark and Lois looked up in horror as the live wire twisted and whipped down on them. The two workmen were scrambling to duck for cover.

"Oh, God!" Lois screamed, just as Clark stepped in front of her…

…and the wire swung right into him!

**TBC…**

**A/N:** As a curse of the ho-hum weeks (and the fact that TS. _Ernesto_ is starting to worry me in the Caribbean. I got hit by Hurricane Rita, I'm a little gun-shy now…) this chapter was a beast to get out! Wheew! _Holy Dramatic Music Overture_, Batman! Lois will **_see_**…! Like it? Let me know what YOU think! Press that little review button!

And special thanks to **ColtDancer** and **Htbthomas** – for the sneak-peek-future chapter help. You two _still_ rock on!


	8. Eyes Wide Open

**A/N: **I want to send a huge shout out of THANK YOUs to everyone who has faithfully stayed with this story. We have a ways to go yet, and I hope you'll hang with me through the ride with Lois, Clark, Richard and Jason, Darius and _eeevil_ Aunt Margaret. Your reviews give me the boost I need to keep up the writing. Rock on guys! Also, I'm thinking of putting a list up of all the groups whose song titles have been used as chapter titles in my story, at the end of chapter 10 (but this is **NOT** the end chapter, so don't worry). That way, those who are music whores, like me, can go surfing. Not that my iTunes account needs any more of my money…

**Veritas**

**Chapter 8: "Eyes Wide Open"**

Clark had been thinking about 'karmic justice' a lot the past few days. All of the instances, all the times he'd wondered if it was all worth it – giving up his chance at happiness with the woman he loved, taking away her memories and leaving her pregnant, how his square-pegged life never fit into the circular holes of normalcy with everybody else. He'd wondered if someone, _somewhere_ was keeping score of all his good deeds, and matching them to some of his colossal mistakes. Now, it seemed, everything he'd been hiding was conspiring to blow up in his face…right at that moment.

The sound of the electricity crackling through the line was almost deafening as he deftly stepped in front of Lois. He didn't think. He didn't have to. He was there, and so was she…but there was no time to try to cover-up his abilities.

"Clark!" Lois screamed, as the power line landed dead center in his chest.

Clark wrapped one hand around the burning end that had seared a whole in his white dress shirt, _so much for no evidence_…and with the other hand, yanked the remaining wire loose from the building. With the power severed, the line went dead in his hands, but continued to glow a faint red-orange from the burnt rubber and wiring. At super-speed he tossed the wire away from the alley.

Clark glanced over the rims of his glasses at the two workmen who'd scuttled for safety behind their truck. The one still in the cherry-picker peaked over the rim at his comrades.

"Are you alright over there?" Clark asked, not realizing that his voice had pitched lower, authoritatively. When the men nodded, apparently more worried about themselves and their job, than with the man who'd just caught a blazing power line, Clark drew in a deep breath.

_Oh, God. Please…tell me she closed her eyes. I can't believe I let this happen again!_ He swallowed and turned very slowly to the woman behind him.

She stood a few steps away from him. Her eyes were wide – so wide he could see every fleck of color around the iris, and he was absurdly struck at how beautiful Lois' eyes were. One hand was covering her mouth, as if smoothing a shriek, while the other seemed to be on her chest for the express purpose of keeping her heart from racing out of her body. Clark could hear her heart beating inhumanly fast, and he was afraid if it didn't slow, she'd pass out.

_Not that it would be a necessarily bad thing if she did, then I could cover by saying she's imagined this_. Clark wanted to kick himself for that thought. He'd been _meaning_ to tell her, he really had. But he hadn't meant for her to find out so quickly – in such an uncontrolled way. Clark realized that his own heart was thundering in his chest, and he wondered if the phrase 'deer in caught in the headlights' might describe his face at that moment.

"Lois…" his throat felt like he'd swallowed the Sahara desert. He closed his mouth and tried to swallow again, his eyes glued to hers. She wasn't moving a muscle.

Somewhere in his brain, amongst the hurricane of thoughts swirling around, Clark felt something stab his consciousness. Fear. What would she do? He couldn't hope for the same response she had almost six years ago, although he distinctly remembered being terrified while he waited for her reaction to his shedding his disguise in that ridiculous honeymoon suite. _But not like this. Everything between us has been so messed up since I came back. And now…I don't know what I'd do if she…_

He heard her suck in a sharp breath, finally. "Oh, my _God_, Clark." Her voice seemed garbled, like she was struggling to keep her composure. Her hands fell to her sides, where they balled into fists. The whites of her knuckles where showing.

Clark felt panic rising in his stomach, and burning in his chest. He knew he had to hold on now, or lose her forever. But this wasn't the best place in the world for revelations, so he held a hand out to her.

"Lois, please. Let's…" he jerked his head toward a garage on the opposite side of the street. He instantly scanned it, and upon seeing that it was vacant, he made a move to guide her across the street.

Lois balked from his touch, holding a hand up in a definitive 'stop' gesture. "Just…_don't_!"

Clark felt that ice-pick of pain puncture his heart again, and he knew if they were going to have any semblance of a conversation, he had to get her to follow him. Even though it was painfully obvious she didn't want him to even _touch_ her, right now.

Lowering his head, he sighed and summoned up his resolve. "I know that being alone with me is probably the last thing you want right now, Lois. But, we cannot talk in the middle of this alley. And 'talk' is what we _have_ to do… so come with me." His voice had dropped a full octave, and his eyes pierced hers with intensity.

Lois Lane could be the most stubborn woman he'd ever known – but whatever was in his eyes at the moment got through the brick wall she'd thrown up between them. A curt nod was his only response as he gestured to the garage again, and she strode briskly across the street in front of him.

The garage was cool and quiet. It was obviously in the process of being renovated for the growing need for more downtown parking – construction tools, barrels and ladders where piled up in corners. Lois crossed her arms over her chest and stopped with her back facing Clark, looking around the space. Clark checked over his shoulder, used his super-hearing to make sure they wouldn't be walked-in on, and walked up behind Lois.

He was careful to give her a few feet of space, and looked down at his shirt. There was a huge brown hole in the center, where the wire and burned him. Of course, the blue skin of his suit showed through like a big target on his front. _Boy, I could really use my jacket about now_. Futilely, he ran a hand over his shirt and tried to adjust his tie, _how do I begin?_

'_So, Lois darling…I'm Clark 'Hayseed' Kent _and _Superman – your former lover and the father of your child. Oh, and by the way, you knew all of this before; I just kissed away your memories. And I really hope you understand, because I'd really like us to be one big happy family. Minus Richard, I mean'. Oh yeah, picture _that _scenario working out…_

Agitated and not having a clue where to begin, Clark ran his hand through his dark hair. But before he could even react, Lois had turned and stalked toward him.

He froze, all thought leaving him as Lois reached up and snatched his glasses from his face. Stepping back, she held them as though the glasses _themselves_ were an accusation.

"All this time," she said. Her face was the calm before the storm, and he could see the fury simmering beneath her hazel eyes. "Working beside me, riding the elevator, sitting in Perry's office with that stupid innocent look on your face! All the times I've had to do an article on Super–" She faltered, unable to say the name of his alter-ego.

Clark just looked from his pitiful excuse for a disguise, to her. His tongue had stopped working.

Lois said quietly, "All this time, you've been lying to me. It wasn't just about hiding the truth about Jason, was it? It was all of this. You've been him…you _are him_!"

Clark finally croaked, "Lois, _he_ is _me_. The man you see before you now is Clark Kent. The same farm boy from Smallville you've known for years…"

"I _don't_ know you!" Lois spat. She shook her head and walked away, staring at the paint cans in the corner. "You were going to keep this from me, just like you were going to keep the circumstances around Jason's origins a secret, weren't you?"

Clark felt like his head was going to explode. _God, she still doesn't see I did this to protect her! Can't she see what my enemies would do with that kind of information? _"I was going to tell you, especially after you told me about Jason. Until then, I had no idea, Lois. Honestly!" Clark could feel their connection wavering, and it was like rod of kryptonite being slowly pulled through his heart.

Lois huffed a sarcastic laugh, and rubbed her temples. "Clark…the only reason I knew _anything_ about Jason was because he threw a baby grand piano into one of Lex's goons on that yacht at sea! Because you did something to my memories," she paused and the look in her eyes, the longing for those memories and regret, nearly sent Clark to his knees, "Because of that, I had to be shocked and scared to _death_ watching my little boy do something like that!"

Clark's mouth went slack for a moment. _Jason did that? It must have scared them _both _to death_. "Lois, I'm so sorry you and Jason had to go through that. Believe me – I know what its like to discover you can do things no _normal_ person can do."

"I bet." She chewed her lip, and looked down at the glasses in her hand.

Clark couldn't help himself. Lois looked so small suddenly, so hurt. He knew all the hiding, all the secrets were going to come back to bite him sooner or later. _I guess that time is now._ He slowly took a step toward her, hoping… _praying_, she'd come to understand and accept him.

"If I could take back all the secrets, the things I've done to hurt you, Lois, I would in a heartbeat. I can't even describe how horrible I feel for missing the first five years of our son's life. But I'm here now. And now you know…uh…about me." He tentatively reached forward and touched her hand. She was trembling, and he fought the all-consuming urge to take her into his arms and kiss her until she understood what she meant to him.

And secretly, a part of Clark – the part that still remembered the pain and loneliness of his teen years, spent hiding his abilities from his friends – that part couldn't help but let in a ray of hope. Now, someone else _knew_. The most important someone – the someone he'd wanted to be honest with since the day they met.

But Lois pulled away from him. When he finally met her gaze, the anxious knot that had formed in his throat nearly strangled him. There were tears in her eyes, but they refused to fall. Lois wouldn't let them.

"Now I know. I know that you took my memories of our love, and hid them along with you true identity. You let me believe the _Clark Kent_ I worked late with three or four nights a week was just some ordinary man, plain as the day is long. But you're not. _You_…are _Superman_. You obviously didn't trust me with the truth. So how can I trust you?"

When his voice broke with emotion, it surprised him. "Lois, this may be too little, too late… but if you can believe _anything_, it's my feelings for you." He was pleading, and he didn't care. He was a drowning man – scrambling for purchase on a slippery slope paved with good intentions gone wrong. And his life line, the woman he loved in the truest sense of the word – was walking away from him.

"You're right, Clark," she whispered finally, swallowing her tears. "It is too late. I don't know the _true_ you."

And with that, she let his glasses fall to the concrete floor – one of the lenses shattering. Lois walked out of that garage, wiping at the tears and holding in the sobs. Before she rounded the corner, Clark's hearing caught the sound of a sob that had escaped and her muttering, "I can't do this."

Clark stood in the deserted garage, the emptiness echoing within his soul. The shattered glass at his feet might as well have been his heart, and he stooped to pick up the frames. _If fate meant for all the events of the past five years to culminate in this moment for us, this can't be the right outcome! But then again, we have to live with the choices we make. I chose to be alone, to go into deep space to find my heritage – and I chose to come back. I chose not to rob Lois of this revelation…again…even though I could lose her._

Clark looked at his reflection in the unbroken side of his glasses. He looked utterly miserable, but there was a spark in his eyes. He could hear his mother's voice clearly in his mind's eye, "_Where there's love, there are always possibilities."_

He loved Lois. He couldn't imagine his life without her. The tiniest smile tipped one corner of his mouth upward as he came to his decision.

_So…you big dolt! Choose NOT to lose her!_

-------------------

Lois' feet hurt. Her head was numb, and she was fairly sure people were staring at her red, blotchy face. She didn't care. All she could think about was Clark.

_Or Superman…take your pick. It all makes sense now! The disappearing acts, they way he's seemed to 'know' things – the way he always seemed to be in the right place at the right time for a story. God! No wonder he scooped me on some of those natural disaster stories, way back when! He was right there, front-row-center for them… saving the day! The subversive little son-of-a-bitch! _

Lois caught herself before diving headlong into a mental rant on all the things Clark had gotten away with at work. She had to admit, even as mad as she was right now, Clark still had a nose for good stories. _Even if it was a 'Super-nose'_.

She rounded the corner a block from the _Planet_, and stopped. How could she go back there, when Clark had probably zipped in and beaten her back to the office? She couldn't face him, not now. _Will I ever be able to?_

Deciding she still needed some breathing room, Lois walked to the nearest park. It was a beautiful day, which only further disgusted her. She hadn't felt this hurt since Superman left, and the impossibly sunny sunshine and cool breeze didn't seem to fit.

_It should be raining, _she thought_. Gale-force rain and wind with deadly lightning and hail. Golf ball size hail. _

She slumped into a bench and buried her face in her hands. The tears were squeezing their way out and she didn't think she could stop them much longer. _How could he do this to me? Lie to me…not trust me? How could he rob me of knowing abut our son, then work side-by-side with me everyday with the goof-ball grin and pretend everything was hunky-dory?_

Lois groaned as she sat up. A man was on the playground with his daughter, pushing her on the swing. The child squealed and begged to fly higher, and her father laughed. He was wearing glasses, and Lois sat staring at him through the mascara running rivulets down her cheeks.

"Oh, _God_," she moaned, "Am _I_ the jerk-of-the-world, or what! Ace reporter Lois Lane can't see through a pair of bad glasses?" _Lois, you ninny! All these years of looking straight at the guy, and you still didn't see!_

After berating herself for winning the 'nitwit of the year' award, the hurt settled back in on her soul. How could she trust someone who clearly didn't trust her with all that he was? Worse than that, Lois knew deep down, she still loved Superman. _Does that mean I love Clark?_

Thoroughly confused and aching for head to toe, Lois sat in the park until the sun began its decent in the sky. She ignored her phone ringing, and was oblivious to the people passing. She sat alone, ensconced in her troubled thoughts and unable to make heads or tails of her future.

_Where do we go from here?_ she wondered over and over.

-------------------

Margaret's assistant had just walked out of her office with the last of her bags. She'd spent the day preparing for her trip, and researching everything she would need when she got to her destination. Her dark eyes scanned the laptop screen, memorizing every detail of the object of myth and legend.

_Legends have their basis in truth. And from everything I've found, the truth behind this will change things forever._

Flipping a lock of dark hair over her shoulder, she printed out the pages she'd been reading. She would have to do more studying on the flight, but she would have plenty of time. It would take 6 hours to get there. She'd made all the arrangements the night before and secured a guide. The man knew his way around archeological sites, and if he asked too many questions, he was the type no one would miss if he 'disappeared'.

"Your nephew is calling again, Mrs. DeGalle," her assistant said as she ducked her head into Margaret's office. Behind the small woman, the tall black man with line-backer shoulders and designer clothes stepped into the room and waited for his mistress.

Margaret smiled and said, "Darius knows I'm going on a short trip – tell him I'll talk to him when I return in a couple of days."

The assistant nodded and left.

"The jet is fueled and ready, madam."

"Thank you, Omar," she answered sweetly. She wasn't sure _Omar_ was his first name, but then… she didn't really care. He was just another employee.

Packing away her laptop, Margaret handed the rest of her belongings to Omar and grabbed a coat. It might look odd for a woman to be carrying such a thick, fur lined parka in late-summer Metropolis.

But it was rather cool in Greenland this time of year.

**TBC**….  
-----------------------

So, there is the big reveal! At least, it's the "_first"_ big reveal. There are still a couple more to go, I think.(evilwink) Enough angst for you? Did you like getting Clark's POV and a little of Lois' too on all of this? Next chapter will have more of Lois' reaction – and more Darius. I was so focused on the revelation, well…the B plot sort-of slid to the backburner. Hey! Its Lois and Clark time! That's what we wanted for this pivotal scene anyway!

**Let me know what YOU think! C'mon, feed the need! Stay tuned!**


	9. In Too Deep

**A/N:** Apologies for the horrible delay. Real life and attack of the idle Muses kept me from writing this week. You can also blame the totally engrossing TV show "_Prison Break"_ and those who got me hooked on it. (You guys _know_ who you are!) Shout outs to **Sean Montgomery**, **Htbthomas** and **Bitsyboo1974** for the funny chats and encouragement to pull myself out of the PB fanaticism long enough to pay attention to a certain _Super!Stud_. Smoochies!

**Veritas**

**Chapter 9: "In Too Deep"**

The deafening roar of the chopper blades drowned out all other noise, as Margaret DeGalle sat looking out the window. It had been a long flight through Canada, and the lack of sleep while doing all her planning and researching was starting to catch up with her. Stifling a yawn, she looked out over the frozen expanse of a glacier. The white was blinding – the older ice floes and the crevices glowed a frigid blue beneath her, and Margaret wondered what the first explorers of this land might have thought, gazing upon such unforgiving lands.

_The Vikings were some of the first to discover this area, and they brought with them treasures plundered from foreign lands in Europe. Lucky for me, they saved me a trip across the Atlantic_. Margaret didn't want to think about how difficult it might have been searching for this final object of her 'legendary' collection if she'd had to traverse the whole of Europe and the Middle East.

The time was at hand, anyway. If she was to go forward with her plans, she had to put the pieces of the puzzle together in the right order, and do it soon. As they neared a mountain range, she could make out the faint spots on the ice floe that signified 'civilization.' _Or perhaps, Jack London's idea of civilization._

The specks became houses, clustered together beneath the shadow of a hulking mountain. Her guide, Schleimer, would be waiting for her there. He had a background in archeology, but had a reputation for unscrupulous dealings in black market antiques and artifact trading. And he would be perfect for their venture – there were quite a few people who wouldn't mind Schleimer 'disappearing', because of deals that had gone bad in the past.

The chopper landed finally, sending ice and dirt flying. Omar hopped out first, opening the door and helping Margaret down. She adjusted the hood on her fur-lined parka, and made her way to the Land Rover parked at the end of the landing zone. Standing in front of the SUV was a tall, lanky man – his head was shaved, and sported a well-manicured bleach blond goatee. Behind the frames of his glasses were eyes as frigidly blue as the ice floes behind him. He smiled tightly as Margaret approached.

"Ms. DeGalle, I presume?" he asked in a thick German accent.

Margaret raised her chin a margin in response. "It's never a good idea to _presume_ anything. But in this case…" she accepted the hand he'd proffered, giving it a reserved shake. "…you are correct. Is everything ready?"

"Yes, ma'am. I have all the gear to get to the site in my SUV. It will be an hour long climb through that cavern," he pointed to a niche in the mountain behind him. It wasn't too far up, but Margaret had come prepared anyway.

Omar stepped up behind his mistress with more gear. Margaret knelt to tighten her boots, and then stood. "So, what are we waiting for?"

Schleimer balked. "Um, do you have the rest of my fee?" When Margaret gave him a sharp look, he hastily added, "Not that I don't appreciate what you've paid me already, I did have to pay off the site guards so that we would have some privacy. Not to mention the arrangements to have the item shipped back to Metropolis without going through customs. All of those things take connections…and connections take money." He emphasized the last statement by rubbing his fingers together in a 'monetary' gesture.

Margaret took a satchel from Omar and faced Schleimer squarely.

Her rich brown eyes flashed as she answered in a smooth monotone. "Heir Schleimer, you seem to have confused me with an amateur. Things have been set into motion that goes way beyond your pitiful excuse for gainful employment. So you see, I really could care _less_ who you happen to owe. You'll get the rest of your money after – and _only_ after – the item I seek is safely on its way back to the States. I paid you to find the object and to keep it safe from any other hunters who may have heard about it."

Scheimer frowned deeply, his throat working to swallow as the regal woman before him stepped into his personal space. If he'd thought her beautiful at first sight, that thought evaporated as he saw the true depth of her malevolence behind the mask of practiced calm.

"If you have a problem with those arrangements, dear sir, I'm sure we can see to it that _new plans_ for you are arranged." She stared him down until she could see a tiny bead of sweat form on his brow. When she was satisfied she'd made her point, an action she was well acquainted with accomplishing – Margaret strode away toward the SUV.

And Schleimer followed behind, all the while wondering just how deep he'd dug himself _this_ time.

----------------------

The sun was starting to set in Metropolis, throwing shadows down the streets and throughout the cavernous buildings. In his office, Darius paced. In his hands he held the crumpled printout of the picture of the _Davis Foundry_ employees. He'd circled the faces of the two Irish workers who had ended up dead in the basement of the east side antiques store.

_It still isn't adding up. What do these workers have to do with those robberies? And what could foundry workers want with antiques_? Darius ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. He'd been working on this ever since he and Hamill discovered the connection, and aside from his other business ventures, he'd barely thought of anything else. It was beginning to wear on him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he flipped open his cell phone and dialed his aunt's personal number. Usually she carried her cell with her everywhere. But just as he had the past day or so, all he got was her voice mail. _Is she avoiding me?_ Darius chewed his lip for a moment – then called Margaret's personal assistant.

"Donna? Yes, it's me. I would really like to get in touch with my aunt, please," he said in a measured tone. _I have a few questions to ask…_

"I'm sorry, Mr. Darius. But your aunt left word that she didn't want to be disturbed on her trip."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, "Can you at least tell me where the hell she went? I mean, is that too much information?" Darius knew his aunt could be secretive, and she'd put him off many a time – but this was different. There was a different feel about her the past few days. Like she was planning something…and didn't want him to have any part of it.

The assistant was apologetic. "I'm really sorry, sir. She didn't say."

Darius shut the phone off and reared back to throw it across the room, before thinking better of it. He'd spent a long time trying to control his once hair-trigger temper. He was tired and stressed…and suspicious. But he needed to keep his cool.

"Dammit!" he spat.

Walking to his desk, Darius grabbed a tumbler of single malt Scotch, and drained it. _Is she planning a take-over of the company? It's not as if she doesn't own a few of her own. And she's always been content to run things from the background_. Suddenly, a thought broke through Darius' muddled brain.

"If she didn't leave word where she was going, maybe she left a paper trail," he muttered to himself, as he rounded his desk and sat at his computer.

He keyed into the Daedalus Corporation main frame. He tried to break into Margaret's personal files, but got nowhere. _I guess I skimped on those computer tech classes at Harvard. Though, I doubt 'hacking' was a credited course…_

He realized that most of the important things would be kept on Margaret's personal laptop, which she took everywhere. Darius sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand over the evening stubble forming on his chiseled jaw. _Where else could there be a clue to her whereabouts?_

The proverbial light bulb went off over his head, and Darius had to refrain from saying 'duh' out loud. His company kept a fleet of personal jets and Sesna prop planes. As CEO, he'd certainly have access to the flight manifests and plans for all the out-going flights. Quickly, he pulled up the files.

Margaret had taken one of the Sesnas late in the afternoon the day before, to Montreal, Canada. That was it. _Montreal? Why the hell would she have to go _there _secretly?_ Darius couldn't believe that was all there was to it, that she'd gone up there on a shopping trip. After clicking around in the flight charters, he saw a small note on the bottom of a page.

"Well, well!" he murmured. "It seems that Aunt Margaret's bodyguard has a penchant for renting helicopters from this particular air strip."

He stared at the information before him, utterly confused and more than a little curious.

"_Greenland_? What the–?"

------------

A light started blinking on the computer of Justin Jenkins' desk in the security office in the bowels of the Daedalus Corp. He checked the incoming information carefully and frowned. He'd been there a long time, and he'd never thought he'd have to be making this call. Especially about the company's CEO, himself!

Picking up the phone, he dialed and waited. "Yeah. It's me. He's been snooping around the files. Yes, that's what I said."

Justin's fist tightened while he listened to the excuses. Then he said darkly, "I don't care what the signal strength is up north, or if you have to send a carrier pigeon. He said he wanted to know the moment this ever happened and he has his orders from the top. I'm just doing as ordered. Now see that the message is sent!"

He slammed the phone down, and went back to his computer. It was going to be a long night.

---------------

Lois wandered back into the Daily Planet sometime before dark. She knew she'd be better off going home, but ironically enough, she'd left some thing s at her desk. She would just have to risk running into _him_.

_God, please let him be gone. Flying around, saving people from landslides or stalled cars…something!_

The war room had cleared out, only a few reporters and runners where milling about the office. Lois caught sight of Perry at his desk, berating someone. It was oddly comforting. While her world was spinning out of control, there were some things that stayed constant. Surreptitiously, Lois stole a glace over to the corner of the room – where _his_ desk was. Mercifully, it was empty.

Lois breathed a little sigh of relief as she made her way to her desk and started pulling her things together. She noticed her notes on the antiques store robberies – completely recopied in clear, concise script. _Damn him. He just _had_ to do this…_Lois glared at the notebook.

He'd recopied it for her while she was gone. Well, she might not be able to even say his name right now, but if using him helped her get further on this case, so be it. She snatched the book up and stuffed it in her bag, along with her list of police contacts. Maybe she could get farther with some of her contacts who worked the night shifts.

Her cell chirped. "I'm on my way, Richard," she said by way of greeting.

"No, its okay, hon. I just wanted to know if you could pick up some take-out on the way home. I've pulled the plane out of the water so I can get to work on those pontoons. I might be out here a while."

"In the dark?" Lois asked.

She could hear his smile over the phone, "You know those flood lights I had installed around the launch dock? Around the big work area I spent last summer setting up…?"

Lois twitched a sarcastic smile. It felt good to have something to smile about, for a change. "Oh yeah. Right. I forgot." She flipped through some messages left on her desk. "Is Jason with you?"

"Yeah, he's going to be my helper this evening," he said, and in the background she could hear her son yelling in agreement. Before she could ay it, Richard cut her off, "Don't worry, he's just going to be handing me some wrenches and fetching water bottles."

Lois frowned. "Well, just make sure he doesn't get too close. I hate it when you have to put that thing up on blocks like that. It looks unstable."

"Nonsense, Lois. Thos blocks are specially made for seas planes. Besides, if I don't get those pontoons fixed, they'll take on water the next time out. Then, all this bird will be good for is a semi-floating fishing dock."

Lois smirked, but before she answered, a yellow note on her desk caught her eye. At once, she recognized the same simple scrawl.

_Lois,_

_I've done some insanely stupid things, but lying to you wins the grand prize.  
__I know you probably want nothing to do with me, but  
__I'd really like a chance to talk to you. If you'll let me.  
__I really want to try to make things right.  
__Please._

_Clark_

Lois' throat suddenly closed off, even though she could hear Richard asking her if something was wrong. There was a new presence in the room. One she had been completely in tune with, but had recently become alien to her. She slowly looked up to meet the deep blue eyes of Clark across the room. He was standing, hands in his pockets, gazing intently at her.

That same longing was there, echoing like shockwaves from his being – straight into her soul. It was suffocating.

Lois stood there, mouth open, cell phone still in her ear, barely breathing. She noticed, albeit distractedly, that Clark had changed at some point. _The sneaky bastard_. _Had time to change, come back here – rewrite my notes…save a small country. And then he's back, playing _'normal' – _back in his normal-suit, ridiculous glasses and all!_

Lois suddenly felt sick, her mind reliving the humiliation of being lied to for so long. Richard's voice startled her, "Lois!"

"Oh, sorry Richard. I'll be home soon." And she quickly hung up.

Hastily, _before he can come over here_, Lois gathered her things. She was rounding her desk to make a dash to the elevator when Perry called out to her.

"Lois! What's the status on that report I gave you?" he bellowed.

"Working on it!" she yelled over her shoulder, and disappeared into the elevator. She didn't breathe normally until she was in the cab, on her way home.

Lois fumbled with her keys and the bags of take-out as she entered her house. After putting it away, she looked out the den window. Under the glow of the halogen lamps, she could see Richard bent over one of the plane's pontoons. Jason was sitting a few feet away, happily pretending to work on his toy plane with some of Richard's tools. The child carefully inspected his tiny plane's landing gear, and must have decided work was needed because he jumped up and went to rummage through the tool kit.

They looked so happy together – Richard telling his 'son' stories of flying, and Jason sitting in rapt attention. _It's not fair. We have a good life. It's not fair to any of us to have it all turned upside down. _Lois worked to swallow the knot in her throat as she watched her son and the man he'd always known as his father.

She had just stepped out on to the back porch to tell her boys that dinner was ready, when she heard an odd noise coming from the plane. Richard was now on his back on a rolling board underneath the pontoon, with Jason watching nearby.

Lois stopped dead in her tracks. Her blood went cold with terror as she heard a monstrous metallic groan.

And the sea plane began to tip…

**TBC…**

Hit that review button and let me know what you think!** Feed the Need!**

**A/N2: **Thanks again to **htbthomas** and **Sean Montgomery** for the betas! You two rock harder than a Rolling Stones concert! Smoochies!

**Want teasers for upcoming chapter, or fun (and sometimes hot) Clark/Lois drabbles? The check out my homepage in my profile on here! http / alamo-girl80 (dot)livejournal (dot)com**


	10. Almost Honest

**A/N:** Again with the delays. Just call me _McPut-Off_. Apologies all around. At the end of this chapter is the list of songs and their groups which have inspired my chapter titles. For the music lovers, all of these are available on iTunes. Check them out!

**Veritas**

**Chapter 10: "Almost Honest"**

Time slowed down for Lois. She felt like she was running through a quagmire of glue – her legs seemed like they were barely moving. Her heart didn't seem like it was still beating, though she knew if it was, it had to be near arrhythmia. Yet, despite the slow-motion effect life around her had taken, Lois found herself hurtling over the deck toward the sea plane.

"RICHARD!"

Richard lay helpless beneath the falling hulk. His last resort to cover his face with his arms in a futile gesture. Lois pumped her arms, pleading with whatever God there was watching from above, that someone would help Richard.

But as she closed distance on her stricken fiancé, she suddenly skidded to a halt. Mouth hanging open, Lois gaped at the sight before her. Little Jason – her beautiful, fragile…_special_ boy – stood before her, holding the entire craft up and over his head. He was heaving – terrified beyond comprehension, yet his little arms barely wavered under the bulk of the pontoon. The plane creaked in protest, but steadied in the boy's grip.

Richard paused, still covering his head with his arms, wondering when the death blow would land. Lois fell at his side, clutching him under the arms and heaving him from under the plane. When he looked up, Richard saw his _son_, holding the plane off the ground – the brace that had been holding the plane up had fallen by the wayside.

Lois could hear her heart beating so loudly she thought it might burst from her chest. Richard sat in front of her, gasping for air and staring in beleaguered astonishment at Jason. After he was sure his father was out of danger, Jason let the plane fall ungracefully to the ground with a loud crash. He backed away from the air craft, never taking his now-enormous eyes off his parents.

A beat passed. The air vibrated with tension. Lois flashed back to the yacht in the storm-tossed sea, when she sat in that pantry and stared dumbly at her son, like she was seeing him for the first time.

Jason was the first to break the silence. "Daddy?" His little voice was tiny, and frightened.

Richard tried to get his throat to work, while Lois sat back on her haunches. Richard's head whipped around to Lois, his normally calm, green eyes were frantic. Lois forced herself to look at him. _Oh…oh, God. Not_ _now… please, not now_.

"_What_? How…?" he was trying to wrap his head around what he'd seen, and all Lois could do was sit there like a bump on a log.

Richard scrambled to his knees away from Lois, his head still spinning back and forth like a tennis observer between his fianceé and his son.

"Jason? Are you...alright?" he finally managed.

Jason took a few tentative steps toward his father, tears bubbling up in his eyes.

"Sorry, daddy," he pleaded, "I didn't mean to mess up your plane, but it was gonna fall on you." His little face was turning red with frustration and fear. _He thinks we are going to be mad at him_, Lois realized – and her heart ached for her boy.

Richard put his hands on the boy's shoulders, holding him at arms length for a moment. He studied Jason – eyes roving over his body like he'd never seen the child before. This obviously scared the boy even more, for more tears gushed down his chubby cheeks, and he sucked in a few sobs while mumbling 'sorry' over and over.

"It's okay, buddy," Richard finally said. He hugged the child to him fiercely and swallowed. "It's going to be okay."

Lois sat, watching the spectacle before her – her hand over her mouth. When Richard looked at her, over their son's head, she saw what she'd been expecting. _He knows. Now... he knows… _

Richard's eyes had gone dark with the finality of what he now understood. Jason _wasn't_ his son. Not even close.

Lois blinked once. Twice. Slowly but surely, a dull ache fixed itself behind her eyes. Her throat burned like she'd taken a shot of cheap tequila. _Where do I go from here?_ _Where do_ we _go?_

It suddenly struck her that she had automatically thought about how _she_ would fix this. How this was, after all, her fault. If only she hadn't decided to take that interview with the President, those many years ago. She wouldn't have been in that helicopter when it failed. She wouldn't have fallen, screaming and flailing into the arms of a man who could fly.

And she wouldn't have fallen helplessly, _hopelessly_ in love with him. _You. Are. A. Fool, Lois Lane. And now…as promised…it's coming back to bite you in the ass–_

"Hey, buddy," Richard's voice was calm, annoyingly calm. "Why don't you go inside and clean up. It's okay, I promise. Daddy isn't mad at you, son."

Jason sniffled, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. He glanced between his mother and father as if looking for approval. "You're not mad at me?"

Lois couldn't stand it any longer. Taking her son in her arms she choked, "No, baby. No…of course we aren't mad. You saved – you saved _daddy_." She almost couldn't say 'daddy', and the vibes she was feeling from Richard had definitely registered the near-verbal stumble. "Go inside, we'll be inside in a moment."

Jason nodded, one last look at both his parents, and then shuffled up the grass to the porch. Lois and Richard sat on the ground, in front of the pitifully listing sea plane, only silence passing between them. Lois' hand had returned to cover her mouth. She'd always been rather closemouthed when it came to her personal feelings and problems. But she and Richard had seemed to enjoy a relative understanding throughout their relationship. _The glaring blank spots would be concerning Superman, though._

Sitting there, staring mutely at her fiancé, Lois suddenly felt like the hand over her mouth was keeping all the emotion from spewing forth – the cork on the bottle, so to speak. Desperately, she wanted to blurt out how she hadn't known about Jason until the incident with Luthor. That she didn't know until that moment, that he was really Superman's son. _And the events surrounding that are still completely locked away in some sadistic file cabinet in my brain_, she thought bitterly.

So it was Richard, who broke the stillness first. "When I asked you, that night while we were fixing dinner," he started, his voice chillingly calm, "if you had been in love with Superman, what did you tell me?" It wasn't a question.

Lois couldn't move. The hand over her mouth swiped up the side of her head, brushing her hair back as she strangled on the knot in her throat.

"You said _no_, right? You said that it was just a story…_he_ was just a story. And you were just lucky enough to be the one he came to for interviews." He sighed. His eyes never left Lois, like he was trying to see inside her soul.

"All this time," he said, "…all this time, I thought you were just putting off the wedding because you had cold feet. Like you thought once you took those vows, I was going to make you stay home like a good little house-wife, or something. I thought you were putting me off to save your independence. Then he came back…and it was like something inside you that had been dead for so long, came back to life."

"Richard, please," Lois couldn't bear this. If he was going to know the truth, he had to know the _whole_ truth. "You've got to understand–"

"No, let me finish," he cut her off. And the stone in his voice chilled Lois to the bone. "I think I've earned the right to say a few things."

He got to his feet and backed away a few steps. "I guess it was stupid of me. I guess I should have put it together sooner – your pregnancy so early in our relationship, Jason's premature birth. I'd thought you took it a little too personally when you wrote that article 'Why the World Doesn't need Superman.' But I never said anything…because I love you. Because I wanted to marry you. And," he looked toward the house, "I love that little boy in there."

Lois stood, her arms clutched around herself. "Richard, I didn't know! Not until we were on Luthor's yacht and Jason…he did something amazing, to save me. Until then, I didn't know he wasn't yours, I swear."

Disbelief flickered in Richard's eyes, and Lois rushed headlong into the explanation – albeit a sorry one – of how the origins of Jason's conception were still a mystery, even to her. _God, that_ _is such a lame excuse. I don't even believe it and I'm the one it happened to!_

Richard listened blankly as Lois told him how she had confronted Superman about her obvious gap in memories. "So, you don't know how, when or where you slept with him…only that it obviously happened and he left you shortly afterward."

Lois huffed a tear-soaked chuckle, "It's too convenient sounding, I know. And for the life of me, I don't know why he did it, but he must have had a good reason. But _why_ isn't the issue, Richard–"

"I love that boy like my own. I always have."

Lois was momentarily at a loss for words. _My God, does he think I would ever doubt that? _"Richard, to Jason, _you_ are the only father in the world! Never doubt your importance to him!"

Richard looked toward Jason's window and smiled wistfully. "Until he learns that he and the Man of Steel have a few abilities too many in common. He's scared, Lois. Confused. He has to know he's not alone in this. And let's face it… there is only one man who can fill in those blanks for him." He looked back to Lois, giving her a broken smile.

She knew he was right. God help her, Lois had pushed telling Jason to the back of this whirlwind drama-storm of her so-called life. And even Richard was thinking farther ahead than she.

"I know. And so will he. But you will always be his father, Richard." She took a step toward him. She felt vulnerable, scared, wound-up and so God-forsaken tired she wished the world would open and swallow her whole. "Where do we go from here?" she asked in tiny voice.

Richard looked down on her, tears pooling in his eyes. "I don't know. I need," he tried, stumbling over his words, "I need to get out of here for a while. Go stay in the city somewhere. I need space, Lois. I have to get my mind around all this, and it's too much."

Lois had figured as much. And she couldn't deny that continually being around Richard in the same house was horrifying to her. At least now, after everything that had happened. They both needed the space.

"You have to tell Jason something, or he's going to think that your leaving is his fault too," she said.

Richard swiped a tear away from his cheek and nodded. "Don't worry. I'm going to talk to him." He looked back down on Lois, searching her face.

Lois' heart broke even more. "Richard–"

But he held up a hand to hush her, "You know? I saw the way you looked at him, that day on the plane when he was going to fly back to that island. And, honestly…I knew right then…you were _never_ going to look at _me_ that way."

He touched her cheek with the pads of his fingers, and Lois squeezed her eyes shut to the pain of his words.

Richard whispered, "Not even now." And when she opened her eyes, he was gone, the porch door closing and echoing within her soul.

--------------------------

He was on the outside, looking in. Again. And he didn't think he could feel lower than he did right at that moment. Superman, always tuned in to Lois with this super-hearing, had heard the commotion with the sea plane from the other side of Metropolis. And of course, he had sped there in plenty of time to see his son display his heritage.

He could hardly believe his eyes, as he floated dumbfounded above the scene. _This must have been what it was like for Mom and Dad, when they first saw me use my powers as a kid. _And it took all of his strength not to zoom in and try to reassure Jason. The fear and confusion on the child's face was a sucker-punch to his heart.

But he couldn't interfere. Not when he saw the exchange between Richard and Lois. And never, save for when Lois verbally accosted him with guilt on that rooftop, had he felt like such a wretched piece of trash. _This is all my fault._ It was like pouring boric acid in a fresh wound.

Quietly he watched, from a safe distance in the sky, while the woman he loved tried to explain _his_ mistakes to Richard. And for the first time, Superman truly felt sorry for Richard.

He sagged to the ground finally, behind some trees near Lois' house. _You're a coward, Clark. For not telling Lois the truth about everything that had happened, for leaving her to deal with all this. For spying on a moment that should have been private, for her and Richard_. But, he knew he couldn't go far. Lois was in pain – hurting – and he could feel it. Clark knew he could no sooner turn his back and leave, than he could tear his out his own heart.

When he saw Richard's car leave the driveway, Superman stepped from the shadows. Lois was still standing in the middle of the lawn, hugging herself tightly.

"Lois?" he asked quietly.

Lois jerked hard, startled. But she didn't turn to him immediately, only acknowledging his presence with a slight tilt of the head. "Oh, perfect timing."

Superman wasn't entirely sure she said that for his benefit, or God's, but he pushed his cape back over a shoulder and took a few more steps toward Lois.

"Lois, I saw everything."

Lois stared out over the river, and he could see tear stains moistening her cheeks.

"Did you now," she answered in a low voice.

He sighed heavily. _How do I begin here?_

Lois suddenly turned her head to him, "Did you see where all of this has brought us now?" Her voice was harsh, cutting right through his impervious skin. Lois' face changed oddly, as she looked at his suit. As if in pain, she scrunched her eyes shut and moaned, "God, you just had to come wearing _that_!"

The realization that this was the first time since she discovered his identity that she had seen Clark as _Superman_, finally dawned on him. Lois lowered her head and hid her face, while Superman's mouth hung open for a moment.

_Way to go, Mr. Sensitivity! She's been through hell tonight and you're going to throw your multiple identities in her face too!_ In a split second, Clark was standing before Lois, wearing a pair of brown chinos and a white tee shirt. He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it, and hoped seeing him in less conspicuous clothes might coax Lois to look at him. _Or to at least let me be able to get closer to her.._

"Better?" he asked shyly, coming around to face her and dipping his head to catch her eye.

She wiped her face with both hands before looking up at him again. Dully, she acknowledged his clothing change, but was obviously too tired to bring up where he'd kept the spare threads. Clark took a moment to soak up her countenance. In the moonlight, with the lighting from the deck bathing her skin in a soft yellowish hue – she looked luminous.

A longing hit him somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach – he wanted to comfort her so badly he ached. But the reddened eyes and waves of sorrow rolling off of her brought him back to the here and now.

"So," she said hoarsely, "Come to make amends, have you? The superhero _Mr. Fix It_ with the ridiculous disguise that fools millions." She shook her head ironically. "Especially fooling _Yours Truly_ here."

"Lois, all I wanted was to make sure you are okay." He caught himself when she narrowed her eyes at him. "Okay, so making sure you're okay is a stupid thing to say…since, you're so obviously n-not, uh…okay." _Funny_, he thought, _how one look from her can throw me right back into stuttering yokel mode._

Lois sighed, "Clark, please." She looked up into his eyes, and a fresh flood of tears came spilling out.

Before he could stop himself, Clark reached for her. The sight of new tears sending him almost over the edge, and the enormous need to touch her becoming too much to bear – he took her face in his hands.

"Lois…hey. Lois?" He tilted her face up to his, trying to silently _will_ the knowledge that everything would be okay into her being.

Lois sobbed, "No. God, no…I can't do this." She pulled away and stepped back, raking her hands through her hair. "I can't do this. Everything was fine. Our lives, our home, our _future_. Richard and I had a future! At least...I think we did."

She was pacing now, the words tumbling out with the tears, with Clark standing helplessly by.

"And then, here you came. Back into my life…into my hear–" she paused, catching herself. "He was right, I put him off – I put off our life together because I was hoping you'd return. Oh, my God! What kind of a woman does that to a man who loves her _and_ her son?"

Clark didn't know what to say. He knew she was talking this out for her own benefit, but it was killing him to see her so distressed and not being able to help.

"Lois, I–"

"Oh, Clark, it's not _all_ your fault. I realize that now," she said sniffing back tears and tugging at a strand of hair. "It's _my_ fault. Five years of waiting, raising a son," she looked back at Clark, "_our son_ – together. I loved him! I _loved_ Richard!" Lois stopped and stared at the ground. To herself she muttered, "_Didn't I_?"

Clark said, "Please, Lois. Please calm down. We will figure all of this out. I promise."

Lois continued to shake her head, staring blankly at the ground as if the answers to her life problems would bloom there like buds in the spring. "It's all changed. I've ruined our future…and I don't know how to get back to where we were."

Clark stood in front of her again, gently brushing the hair from her wet cheeks. His heart was aching, and he'd have given every superpower he had to be able to spend the rest of the night holding Lois in his arms.

"It's all going to change, yes, but we'll figure it out. Change doesn't always have to be a bad thing," he said.

It was a baldly hopeful thing to say, with the woman of his dreams in tears and utterly lost before him, a son who didn't know that he was his father, and a whole multitude of problems ahead for both of his dual lives. But Clark didn't care. He'd been dreaming for this life for as long as he could remember. He had to keep the faith that he might still get it. _And maybe, I can get Lois to have a little hope as well. The connection between us is stronger than all of this._

He held Lois' face in his hands, savoring the feel of her skin. He stared deeply into her eyes, imagining all the wonderful possibilities of what could be – when they recovered from all of these sudden changes and she gave in to her heart's true desire. _It's in her heart...it's all there in her heart..._

Lois gazed back into his blue eyes for a moment, as if she was searching for some of that perfect future he was imagining.

Then, she pulled away, breaking contact. "I know you're trying to help, Clark. But just…just go. I have to figure this out on my own, for now."

She turned away and faced the house, hugging her arms to her chest and swallowing down the last of her tears.

Clark's soul screamed at the loss of contact, and the rude whip-lash back into reality. His dream-world had melted away when she pulled away, and though he knew she needed some time, he couldn't help the weight that pressed down on his heart again. _I can't lose her. I won't_. He summoned up a half-smile of understanding and nodded.

"Sure, Lois. But I'm always here, you know. I-If you need me."

**TBC….**

**Chapter 11 coming soon! More angst, more mystery…stay tuned! **Special thanks to **Htbthomas** and **Sean Montgomery** for the betas! Smoochies!

As promised, the list of Chapter titles (song names) and groups who inspired them:

1. **Scratch** – Kendall Payne  
**2. Rebuke** – none  
**3. Hands Open** – Snow Patrol  
**4. Catalyst** – Anna Nalick  
**5. Won't Get Fooled Again** – The Who  
**6. Inside Out** – Vonray  
**7. All At Once** – The Fray  
**8. Eyes Wide Open** – GooGoo Dolls  
**9. In Too Deep** – Sum 41  
**10. Almost Honest** – Josh Kelly


	11. So Cold

**A/N:** I really have no apologies for my sucking on the update time. My _suckdome_ knows no bounds…

**Veritas**

**Chapter 11: "So Cold"**

"It's just another two hundred yards or so!" Schleimer yelled over the howling wind. Ice and snow pelted his goggles, freezing to the strands of his blond hair and plastering it like a frozen cap against his forehead.

The weather had taken a turn for the worse not long after he and his client's team had broken camp. They had been trekking over three hours up the mountain slope – a hike that should have only been an hour and half. He hadn't counted on Ms. DeGalle bringing five other men and various bags of cumbersome equipment along. He'd told her it would be easier for his men to come, to crate up whatever it was this woman was obsessing over and carry it down the mountain. Obviously, trust wasn't an idea Margaret DeGalle invested in.

Schleimer glanced back over his shoulder at his trailing companions. Directly behind him, the hulking Omar adjusted the enormous pack strapped to his wide shoulders. The cold and wind seemed to bother him little – his state-of-the-art black snow suit must have been taking the bite out of the wind chill.

Margaret kept right on his heels, using his tracks through the snow to ease her walking. Schleimer couldn't see her face for the goggles and the fur of her hood, but he could make out the grim set of her jaw. Four other men brought up the rear, each lugging their own pack of Lord-knows what sort of equipment.

Margaret's crisp voice sounded through the wind, "You'd better be sure your notes on that map are correct, Mr. Schleimer! We should have gotten to the mouth of the cave by now!"

Schleimer gulped his momentary uncertainty down and looked at the palm pilot with the GPS coordinates on it. "We are still on track, ma'am. The wind and snow are just slowing us down."

Margaret trudged past Omar, coming close enough to Schleimer that he could see her dark eyes through the goggles. "Then increase the pace," She said coolly and walked past him.

He shoved the PDA in his pocket and jogged to catch up. A jagged outcropping of rocks loomed over head as they neared what looked like a plateau cut into the side of the mountain. Once they passed the rock wall, the path turned into a narrow passageway through ice and rock, leading into the gloomy blue-grey insides of the mountain.

Schleimer paused, allowing the others to congregate behind him. He looked over his shoulder. "The cave mouth," he pointed ahead to a patch of inky blackness that stood out from the cold blue ice and rock, "It's just ahead. The main entrance is rather small; you may want to leave some of those packs outside. The grand hall of the cavern is about fifty yards down and in."

"And that is where the artifact will be waiting," Margaret added. "You men – remove and assemble the transportation sleds we'll need to get the item down the mountain. The rest of the instruments we'll need inside."

She subconsciously ran a hand over the small silver bag she'd been carrying under her arm protectively since they switched planes in Montreal. A subtle thrum of energy could still be felt through the bag, giving Margaret a slight thrill of anticipation.

"Omar, help Mr. Schleimer get the lighting set up in the entry while I get the head lamps and flashlights," she said

Omar nodded, hoisting his pack over his shoulders and setting it upon the ground. The shrill ring of his satellite phone echoed through the cavern, causing Schleimer to jump nearly out of his boots.

"Shut that thing off!" he hissed, looking cautiously over head, "Something that high pitched could cause an avalanche this time of year."

Omar merely glared at him and answered. After a few moments of listening, he closed the phone.

"The trip-wire has been set off, madam. He has been inquiring more into your whereabouts…and Davis Foundry."

Margaret removed her goggles, her mouth quirking in displeasure. "Sooner than I'd expected. Never underestimate insatiable curiosity, I suppose. A shame all of this hinges on him…and the extraordinary _alien_ variable." She sighed, wondering if this plan, which she'd been working on since the extolled return of said 'alien variable' a month or so ago, would fall inline at the right time.

Timing was of the utmost importance, as the ancient writings had made clear. If they didn't find all the pieces and put them together at the right time, it would never work. And with the powerful items they were dealing with, fumbling with the time-frame could prove to be deadly.

"Not to worry," Margaret stated, more to herself, than anyone else, "The boys at home know to keep a close eye on my nephew. They'll steer him in the right direction." She smiled. "Besides, I believe he has a formal event to attend tomorrow night – the _Daedalus_ Corporation's fundraiser for the little less fortunate misfits Darius _continually_ dirties his hands with. That will keep him busy…and hopefully lead to a meeting with a certain, _sharp-witted_ journalist of the _female_ persuasion."

As they began to enter the cave, Schleimer noted the smile that spread across Margaret's lovely full lips did nothing to accentuate her beauty. It was malicious. _Feral_.

------------------------------

The lamps threw monstrous shadows that slithered and undulated across the glistening walls inside the foyer of the cave mouth. The men went about setting up the small portable generator just outside the entryway, where it could catch the faintest rays of sunlight and power the solar cells.

Wires and chords snaked along the cave floor, running to standing construction lamps. Margaret looked around the small entry way; noting it was only about the size of her office back home.

Ahead of them, absolute darkness. She knew that the pathway to the Grand Hall, the largest chamber of the cave, was located within that blackness. It was eerie – how the complete absence of light, or anything like it, brought out the most primal fears in a person. Margaret understood why early man only sought shelter in caves as a last resort, before they discovered fire. There was no way to know what was lurking in the abyss. Even her flashlight seemed to be swallowed by the fathomless darkness in the passageway they intended to explore.

The shiver that ran down her spine wasn't from fear – it was from the feeling of power that seemed to be emanating from the dark, similar to the energy that tickled her senses from the object in her shoulder bag.

She clutched the bag a little tighter. "Come, gentlemen. Let us see what waits beyond the dark."

Omar and Schleimer gathered up their flashlights and trudged into the passage after Margaret, while two of the hulking, male assistants exchanged nervous glances. They'd been told they were there to protect her assets and help with transport of some artifacts – though now, they weren't so sure something _else_ wasn't waiting for them beyond the comfort of the light.

The party walked cautiously – the rock floor was slippery from ages of ice and water build-up. The air clung to them like a frigid blanket, musty and old. The only sound, other than their breathing, was water splattering down into pools that lay beyond their sight. Even the bats seemed to have forsaken the cave.

After a few minutes, Margaret stopped, halting the line. "I think…we're here." As she spoke, her voice bounced off the walls and ceiling which were so high their flashlight beams couldn't reach to illuminate them.

The Grand Hall was utterly enormous – it was awe-inspiring to think that it had taken millions of years to create. Schleimer moved ahead of the line and pointed his light to the right, where a group of boulders were situated in a semi-circle.

"There. We unearthed the artifacts over by those boulders. When we left, we tried to conceal them as best we could," he explained.

They moved toward the ring of rocks and flooded the area with light from glow sticks and hand-lamps. The ground was spongy – instead of rock there was a thin layer of dirt covering a small mound. Schleimer bent and swiped some of the dirt aside, revealing a tan tarp. He looked back up to Margaret and smiled – as if waiting for her to admit he did actually know what he was doing.

But Margaret gave him no such confirmation, only bent and snatched up a corner of the tarp and yanked. Dirt and debris flew into the air, causing the team to cover their eyes and faces, coughing.

When the dust settled, Margaret let out a low, seductive chuckle. "Riches do not consist in the possession of treasures, but in the _use_ made _of_ them."

Before them, bathed in a soft green-glow from the glow sticks, lay the most ornately carved mirror any of them had ever seen. It was big, about six feet long and three feet wide – the edges and top were covered with raised carvings that were made of glass themselves. The mirror itself had no frame – it lay on the dark earthen cave floor like a pool of glass and crystal. As Margaret stared at it, the carvings seemed to come to life, mythical creatures writhing around the unblemished glass. At the head of the mirror, a single rod of crystal protruded where the frame should have been. An identical rod of crystal stuck out from the base of the mirror, only a few inches.

The crystal rods glowed a faint red, like rubies that had come to life. Instinctively, Margaret reached into her shoulder bag, bringing forth the item that thrummed with energy. Schleimer's eyes went wide with wonder, as he beheld the softball sized talisman in her hand.

It was round and glowed with a fierce white light when she bent and put it near the reddish crystal rods. The rods glowed even brighter as the orb passed them. He noticed that the round jewel wasn't completely clear; the white crystal seemed to have flecks of green – like tiny glowing emeralds – twinkling within it.

"I wonder if Napoleon had this sort of treasure in mind when he said that," Schleimer whispered, referring to Margaret's quote.

Margaret smiled, bending over the mirror and caressing the carvings with a gloved finger. "If he'd had _this_, he might have succeeded in conquering his enemies."

Schleimer gulped, noting how the glow from the crystals seemed to reflect menacingly in her eyes.

"Start loading the mirror," she ordered at once. "Go back and get the custom container out of the bags and ready the transport sled. I want to be ready to leave here in one hour."

"If…if you don't mind me asking, Ms. DeGalle, but what good is this mirror? It looks to be early Roman design, perhaps from the years forty to fifty A.D.? But those red rods, what are they for? Why would they put ornamental rubies like that sticking out of the top and base?" Schleimer gazed at the orb in her hands, "And that! Where did you find a piece of crystal with such odd, green inclusions like that?"

Margret pursed her lips, as if trying to decide weather or not to indulge his curiosity.

"Why not?" She shrugged to herself. "You are correct, Heir Schleimer, it is from the period roughly around forty A.D. And it _is_ Romanesque. It was supposedly created for a Roman emperor, to imbue him with the ability to conquer any enemy who faced him. It was to give him strength, ridding him of all the internal weaknesses that plague humanity. Caring, sympathy, morality, fear, doubt – without them he would be the ultimate leader… a feared Emperor for all time. The mirror shows him what he could be, what he desires to be and then takes away all of that emotional detritus that prevents him from achieving that greatness. They named it after him, you know…the emperor who benefited from this wondrous mirror. It's called the _Neronian_ Mirror."

"Nero was a mad-man," Schleimer whispered in horror.

Margaret shrugged, "He got things done, and his people feared him. More importantly, they _obeyed_."

She continued, holding the round crystal in her hand. "_This_, I received from a dear friend. He had discovered the most remarkable substance within a meteorite that had landed in the American heartland during the 1960s. He believed this substance – I believe its called _kryptonite_? – could be used as a weapon, among other things. I'm sure I don't have to tell you about the little incident we had with that island popping up in the Atlantic a short while ago."

Schlieman's brows furrowed – his mouth dropped open when the realization hit. "_Oh, God_! You…you mean you got that from _Lex_ _Luthor_? He tried to kill Superman with that stuff!"

She smiled fondly, "Oh, dear Lex was _always_ trying to kill Superman. And I have to admit, the krypto-continent was a brilliant plan – kill two birds with one stone, so to speak." She held the stone to the light of the flashlight, the green flecks throwing little reflected stars racing about the cavern, while the men covered the mirror and prepared to move it.

"Lex made too much of a statement though, brought too much attention to his dealings. Superman was all but getting a broadcast of Lex's every move. My plan is on a much smaller scale. At least, for the time being."

She caught Schleimer gazing dubiously at her crystal. "Oh, this isn't pure kryptonite," she explained. "This is the result of my own labs working in concert with Lex Corp. trying to find other uses for the meteor crystal. I'd always told Lex, kryptonite could be used as an energy source if you toyed with the molecular makeup enough. This," she gestured to the orb, "is a new form of power – a battery with a little alien kick! And thanks to you, I now have the final piece."

They watched as the men carefully carried the mirror out of the cavern. Schleimer's eyes had changed from confused to optimistic. Maybe there was more wealth to be gained from pairing with this woman. She had, after all, shown him things he couldn't have dreamed existed…but there was always Superman to worry about…

"Your plans…aren't you worried about Superman…?" He left the question hanging.

Margaret shrugged, sauntering around beside him, "Superman has always been a component of my plan. Why do you suppose I chose kryptonite to be melded into the power source? Once I get it… 'plugged in'….who knows what might happen? I'd wager Superman won't know…"

"Interesting," he mused. "So, for my help in all of this, I think we can agree that I can be of help to you. I deserve a piece of this action – whatever action you are planning to take on next, that is."

"Really? I hadn't thought of it that way, honestly." Margaret tilted her head, patronizingly.

Schleimer frowned. _If she thinks she's going to cut me out now, she's as stupid as she is beautiful._ "Oh, come now, Ms. DeGalle – I do keep some records, you know. Calls, items you wanted me to find…lists of payments received. Frankly, I know too much about all of this to be cut out completely."

Margaret smirked and started walking toward the passageway while he talked.

Frustrated that his chance at being financially set for life was walking away from him, Schleimer tried the bold-face threat approach. "I have friends, Ms. DeGalle. Friends that can see to it that all of your plans, everything you've done so far, becomes public knowledge! All I want is a little more compensation… incentive to keep quiet. Surely you don't have a problem with that?" He smiled, thinking he'd gotten her attention when she stopped and turned.

"No," she said, her voice as cold as the ice outside. She produced a small caliber gun from her pocket and leveled it at Schleimer's chest. "I don't have a problem with that at all."

----------------------

Morning had come all too soon for Lois as she sat at her desk nursing a lukewarm coffee. She, of course, had not slept. Her bed had become a lonely, cold place without Richard there. And though she knew Clark would have gladly stayed to comfort her, she couldn't bear to be around him.

_I'm going to have to learn to be around him though, it'll be hard to avoid him having to work together and all._ She ran her hands over her face. How could she work with him?

How was she going to be able to walk out of the Planet with Clark Kent, on their way to a new scene for a story – only to have him disappear, and meet her there as Superman? Oh, she could see how well _that_ would play out…

_Oh! Hi, there, Clark! While you're in there putting the building back together could ya have a look with those Super Peepers of yours and see what kind of explosives were used? Don't forget – Perry wants this by this evening! By the way, how many 'C's' are there in 'Ludicrous' – as in this _whole_ situation is ludicrous… _

Lois caught sight of Richard walking in and making his way to his office – using the long way, pointedly avoiding going near her desk. She caught his eye for only a moment before they both looked away. Lois chewed her lip fitfully as she heard his office door slam.

Out of the corner of her eye she spied Clark sitting at his desk, pencil in hand, but his full attention on her. Her heart rate sped up in voluntarily as his blue eyes gazed intently at her, compassion and caring melding within them. He looked like he desperately wanted to come to her side – to be near her – and it was taking all his super-strength to stay away.

Lois groaned and let her head sink between her hands. _If I don't get some kind of relief, all this stress is going to make me spontaneously combust! What else could possibly go wrong?  
_"Hey, Miss Lane, I've got your invitation to the _Daedalus Corp_. fundraising ball tonight!" Jimmy's upbeat tenor made her ears ring.

"Wha-?" She looked up from beneath disheveled curls.

Jimmy's brows knit together as he looked at the pitiful sight before him. Lois looked like she'd taken a mental and physical beating. "Um…the fundraising ball, where all the major media affiliates and companies are going to gather and 'shake it all night long' for charity?" He tried to get her to smile with the quip, imagining some of the media big-wigs _boog-a-looing_ the night away.

"Oh, crap!" _I spoke too soon…never ask what else can go wrong so early in the day!_ Lois grabbed the invitation and looked at it. "We really have to go to this?"

"Uh, yeah, I think Mr. White said all who were invited had to attend. Richard didn't tell you about it? He got his invite yesterday. You and Mr. Kent were out, so I saved yours."

Lois made a sour face and slumped back down on her desk. Jimmy hiked a brow and glanced through Richard's office window. Richard was bent over papers, forehead in hand, looking as tired as Lois.

When he looked toward Clark's desk, he saw the mild mannered reporter tug frustratedly at his tie while he read over his own invitation. Clark chanced one more glance at Lois, sighed and leaned forward on his desk and massaged the bridge of his nose under his glasses.

Even _he_ projected a weary air. Jimmy looked from Lois to Clark and back.

Deciding it was better not to know why all three of the _Planet's_ best reporters looked like they had been wrung through a dryer and trampled on by a stampede, he put the rest of Lois' mail on her desk.

"Ooh-kay," he muttered and walked away, leaving Lois to gently thump her head on her desk a couple of times for good measure, hiding her face in her arms and muttering under her breath.

--------------------

The shot was deafening, reverberating off the cavern walls. Schleimer's eyes were wide with shock as he looked down at his chest – a single bullet hole punctured his jacket just to the left of his sternum. Omar came in and stood behind his mistress as Schleimer's body thudded on the floor – the small trickle of blood oozing from his chest wound, his eyes staring blankly into the eternal darkness.

"Isn't it nice, Omar?" Margaret asked, her tone sweetened like molasses and acid, "He has a ready-made tomb, with the size and grandeur of the pyramids. For an archeologist, what better way to spend eternity? In a thousand years, maybe _he'll_ be worth something!" She laughed as she walked back out the passageway.

Omar made one more pass, making sure all their equipment had been cleared out. At the mouth of the cave, once the others were a good distance away, he set the plastic explosives and the small detonator.

The blast a few minutes later caused a catastrophic cave-in. Rocks and snow tumbled down the mountain burying the cave forever. Margaret and her men watched from a safe distance.

"Tragic, really…what greed can lead one to," she observed mildly.

**TBC…Ch. 12 Coming soon!**

Alright, time for you to let me know what you think? Like more of the B-Plot? More Lois/Clark stuff in the next chapters, and we're rounding the home stretch to the end! **Feed the Author's Need!** **Review**!

Smoochies to **htbthomas** and **Sean Montgomery** for the betas as always!


	12. Truth is a Whisper

**Disclaimer:** See previous chapters, because I still don't own or claim rights to any of these characters except my own original ones...

**A/N: **After such a long wait for an update, I hope I haven't lost all of you readers out there! Real life, procrastinating Muses, eh... you know the drill. All I can say is that I hope you enjoy this, because if you think I've messed with Clark and Lois in previous chapters...you ain't seen _**nothing**_ yet! Read on, my lovelies...read on! (As always, hugs to my two wonderful betas, **htbthomas** and **sean montgomery**!)

**Chapter 12: "Truth is a Whisper"**

The sun was just beginning to set, throwing a splash of vivid oranges and reds across the Metropolis skyline as the yellow cab carried Lois home. The temperature was starting to give away the change in seasons, from summer into fall, and Lois noticed the Metropolis denizens were starting to break out the light-weight coats. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she figured she'd have to dig out Jason's windbreaker before she sent him off to his friend's house for the night.

While she had to endure the fundraiser ball on _steroids_. She'd heard about these extravaganzas the _Daedalus_ Corp would host.

_Kill me now..._Lois sighed and let her head drop against the passenger window a little harder than necessary. The dull thud felt oddly soothing. It was nice to feel something – something uncomplicated and unfettered with the absurdity that had become her life lately. It was simple – _one_ reaction from _one_ action. Not like the tumultuous mish-mash of consequences that had risen from forgotten actions in her past, which had now mutated into a magnificent, belly-twisting headache.

Before she knew it, the cab had pulled to a stop in front of the circular dive of her house. Tossing some bills at the cabbie, Lois hauled her weary bones out of the car, and stood for a moment, taking in the house before her. The lights inside were warm and inviting, and her body begged her to give into its demands for rest and a hot bath. But she found herself rooted in place.

_This isn't really my house. It's Richard's_. Though she knew, if the worst happened, Richard would gladly pack his things and leave the house to her and Jason. Even if she could never will herself to stay in it. Lois pressed her lips together…_and Jason isn't really Richard's_. _He's_…she gulped down the burgeoning emotion…_he's Clark's. He's Clark's son._

For the first time since all of these mind-blowing revelations had been dropped, she admitted that she had a son with Clark Kent. _Clark_ – not Superman. Like a spark of light in the darkness of her mind, Lois realized that underneath the super suits, the extraordinary powers and unwavering heroism – Superman was just a farm-boy from Hicksville, USA. A bumbling, meek, golly-gee-wiz _rube_. But a _man_…nonetheless.

Lois forcibly shook herself out of her thoughts. _I can't stand here and drown in the dregs of my screwed-up life. C'mon, Lane…pick it up and move on. Women all over deal with life-altering problems, and they get through it. _She trudged one foot in front of the other up the drive, though for all her mental bucking-up, her shoulders slumped with resignation.

_After all of this crap hitting the fan at once, I could sure use a break._ Lois had never been very religious – save for the numerous pleas she sent up to whomever for help on breaking stories. As she ascended the front stoop, she silently asked _Whoever_ was up there keeping tabs on her life for that little break.

"Oh! Lois, sorry…I didn't, uh…hear you," Richard said as he opened the front door just as Lois had her key almost in the lock.

She hadn't spoken to him since the sea-plane incident. And she had no plans to deal with him any time soon.

Sighing, she flicked her eyes heavenward. _Gee, thanks._

She looked down and noticed Richard had three duffel bags – two in his hands and one on the floor. Lois figured that would make up the bulk of his clothing and personal effects. He really _was_ leaving.

Not knowing what to say, Lois simply moved aside awkwardly as he made his way past her. He set the bags on the porch and turned to her – his face was drawn and there were dark circles under his eyes. He watched her gently, allowing her time to initiate the conversation – though it was clear their chemistry was now inescapably skewed.

"Do you… need any help?" Lois caught the slight flinch in his features when the words left her mouth, and if she could have turned and beat her head against the doorframe and get away with _not_ looking like a mental patient, she would have.

_Oh, brilliant, Lois! Real freakin' smooth! Why don't you offer to rent a U-haul and chuck the rest of his stuff out in short order!_

She wiped a hand over her mouth, "I mean…do you-"

"I think I've got it," he filled in. His voice was dry, and he turned his gaze to his feet.

Deciding to switch gears before she felt like she'd have to go get a gun for him to shoot himself with, Lois said, "So, the Chief is really sticking it to us with having to go to this stupid ball thing, huh?" _I sound like an eighth grader trying to chat up the new boy in school!_

Richard offered a wan smile. "Yeah. I've got my tux being delivered to my hotel suite."

"You always hated having to put on a tux."

"The hardest part was getting that damned tie straight." He flashed a brief, genuine grin, before it melted away.

Lois looked at her hands, and nodded. It had always been a running joke with them that he couldn't tie his bow tie without her help. She delighted in correcting him and redoing his tie, reveling in the way she had to stand on tip-toe to get her arms around his neck from behind. They would face a mirror, so she could see the tie, and he would always laugh when he gently bumped her with his hips to knock her off-balance. It was just one of their private routines. One that would probably never happen again.

The underlying finality suddenly felt like a thick blanket suffocating Lois. She loved the man, but at that moment, she wanted to run far and fast.

"Um, I-I'd better go. I still need to pick out something to wear to this blowout." She only looked up once, and the sadness in his eyes was unbearable.

Lois was backing into the doorway when Richard said, as he straightened from gathering his bags, "The red dress. You've always _killed_ in that red dress, Lois."

He gave her one last pathetic attempt at a brave smile, and he turned and strode to his car. Lois closed the door and leaned against it – toying with the idea of collapsing to the floor in a flood of tears and screams.

"Mommy?" Jason was standing at the stairs, one hand in his jeans pocket, and the other on the banister. He looked at her worriedly, and Lois pushed the suffocating feelings and her body away from the door.

"Hey, kiddo, you ready to go to Peter's house?"

Jason nodded toward his backpack, "I'm all packed. They said they'd come get me in a few minutes." He pushed his longish bangs out of his eyes and watched his mother drop her briefcase and coat on the couch, rolling her neck from side to side wearily.

"Dad came and got more of his things this afternoon."

Lois looked down at her son, the frankness of his voice catching her off guard. "I know, sweetie." _What more can I add to that…?_

Jason nodded again, his eyes never leaving her, "He said that we are still a family, but sometimes families… don't always live in the same house."

"He's right. Sometimes families are separated. Sometimes… things happen in the adult world, honey…" she was fumbling, but some how she knew Jason would get the point. He was extraordinarily bright, after all, "…things happen and we really don't know what to do to make them right, but we have to keep going. But that doesn't mean he and I don't love you with all our hearts."

Jason replied, "Daddy said that 'life threw a curve-ball' at you and him. Did he…did he mean…?" He shuffled his feet, trying to avoid asking the question he feared to be the truth. He was terrified that _he_ was the curve-ball – him and his peculiar new "gifts."

Lois sighed and kneeled before her child, her hands resting on his shoulders for comfort. "It is _not_ you, baby. Believe me, Daddy is right about that curve-ball, but it isn't your fault. It's…just the way life goes sometimes." _Especially when you get involved with someone from another planet!_

"Sometimes we are given a heavy burden to deal with in life, but it's never too much for us to carry." Lois thought she'd read that parable somewhere, maybe _Reader's Digest_.

Jason seemed to brighten. "Like Superman! He can lift anything," he exclaimed.

Lois bit the inside of her cheek to keep from rolling her eyes. _Not what I need to hear right now, baby…_ "Yep, he sure can," she answered in a tone laced with false cheer.

Ruffling Jason's hair as she un-tucked her blouse, she kicked off her pumps. "I've got to go start getting ready for that party." She added, "And probably throw half my closet on the floor trying to find something to _wear_…"

The doorbell rang, and Jason yelled "Coming!" to his friend, before running back to his mother, tackling her legs in a hug and grabbing his backpack as he headed back to the door. Before he opened it, he looked back to Lois and gave her a lopsided grin.

"Wear the red dress I've seen you dancing around your bedroom in sometimes, Mommy. I like red… and you look pretty in it!"

He bolted out the door with his friend Peter, whose mother – _Mrs. Parker, was it? _– waved to Lois from the driveway. Lois waved back before the door slammed behind her son.

She looked up the stairs and sucked the side of her lip in thought.

"Red dress it is, then."

------------------------------

Clark tugged at the tie at his throat for the nth time. He hated getting dressed up in formal wear. _Course, I run around in blue spandex and cape most of the time, why should a tuxedo bother me so much?_ He nervously smoothed a hand down his pants as he rode the elevator to the ballroom at the top of the _Daedalus_ Corporation towers.

The ballroom was on the thirtieth floor, and Clark felt like he'd been stuck in that elevator for days. He checked himself in the reflection of the polished steel walls again.

His rented Armani tux was immaculately cut – accenting his broad shoulders and tapered waist like it had been sewn just for him. From the gawking stairs he'd earned from the women upon entering the building tonight, he must be pulling off the look pretty well.

He pulled off his glasses and looked at himself. It still amazed him how many people were fooled by simple outward appearances. His goofy glasses kept his identity safer than any James Bond disguise. And up until recently, he'd been grateful for that.

He frowned, his gaze falling. Now…he would give anything to just be Clark 'see me as I am' Kent – to not have to hide behind ridiculous glasses and put-on personas. He wished Lois could look at him, sans the glasses, and not avert her gaze in disappointment or betrayal. Or worse – hatred.

_God, she probably hates me_. He rubbed the back of his neck ruefully and put the glasses back in their place on the bridge of his nose. He and Lois would have to find a way past this avoidance if they were to move on. And above all, what Clark wanted most was to take the next step with her, hopefully in a direction that would have them _together_.

But he wasn't about to push it. He couldn't take that chance…and lose her forever.

The ballroom looked like a place presidents and kings would dream of. A polished Italian marble staircase wound gracefully down to the main floor, which was made of rare woods set in intricate patterns. The entire room seemed big enough to hold the entire population of Smallville, Clark figured, and the crystal chandeliers hanging all around probably weighed at least a ton…_each_! Large round tables with pristine white tablecloths were set around the sides in alcoves around the room. Half of one wall was occupied by a wooden stage, where a large band, complete with a lead and several back-up singers was performing a soft rock number.

The place was packed with every news affiliate's top brass, and various reporters, business moguls and other members of Metropolis elite. Clark made his way down the stairs, grinning bashfully at the women who eyed him appreciatively. He spied Perry chatting up the Mayor and his wife. Perry looked like someone had forcibly stuffed him into a tux a size or so too small.

_Probably one he's had a while and he figured he'd save money by not renting a new one. _Clark shook his head and began to scan the crowd. He recognized just about everyone there – and a few he'd actually run across as Superman. The wealthy are ready targets for crime, and he'd had to save a few of the richer business men in the room from various nefarious individuals.

He snagged a glass of wine from a passing waiter, waved to a few _Planet_ employees…_but where is she?_ He started making a slow circuit around the room, stopping to chat with co-workers here and there, but his blue eyes stayed alert to every new entry into the room.

"Hiya, Clark! Some party, isn't it?" Jimmy's voice, loud and boisterous at his side startled Clark.

"Oh, hey, Jimmy. Yeah, great party." He continued to look out over the heads on the dance floor.

"Man, I have never seen this many fine women in one place! It's like…shooting apples in a barrel!" Jimmy gulped his drink and slapped Clark good-naturedly on the shoulder.

Clark swallowed the chuckle about to burst out, "Uh, I think you mean 'shooting _fish_ in a barrel'."

Jimmy looked at him blankly, "Why would you shoot fish in a barrel?"

Clark's brows furrowed for a second, and then he smelled the mixture of alcohol on his young friend's breath. _Geez, wonder how long he's been here._

"Oh, there's Mr. White…_HI, MR. WHITE_!" Jimmy's voice carried and Clark stared dumbfounded at him. _He's going to get kicked out of here, yelling at the Chief like that!_

But when Clark turned, he saw Richard walking toward them. Instinctively, Clark searched for Lois following him, but when she was nowhere to be seen, he chided himself. He'd seen the way they had avoided each other at the office. _Can't assume she'd show up with him…just because…_

"Hey, Jimmy," Richard said, shaking the cub reporter's hand, "Go easy on those mixed drinks, okay?" He smiled as Jimmy wavered on his feet.

"No problem. Hey, this is an open bar, right?" Jimmy saw a young legal assistant pass, and drawn by the slinky dress and the subtle shake of her hips, he grinned and followed after her.

"I hope he took a cab tonight," Clark observed.

Richard stood in front of him, giving Clark an odd, long look – long enough to make Clark wonder if his glasses had fallen sideways. Nervously, he pushed them up and smiled. Richard wore a gorgeous tux – and though he was impeccably groomed, Clark could see the fatigue in his normally bright eyes. A twinge of guilt pricked his heart – this guy had been through Hell lately too.

"So…" Richard drawled as he moved to stand beside Clark, "How's it going, Kent?"

"Uh…okay, I guess." He took a large swig of his wine. "You?" _Dumbest question of the year, Clark – way-to-go…_

Richard took a hit of the Scotch in his hand, grimacing as it burned going down.

"Never. Better." He bit the words out one by one, giving Clark a matter-of-fact look.

_Sheesh!_ Clark visibly winced. How was he supposed to stand there and chat nonchalantly to the man who'd nearly married his love, and been the father to his child in his absence – whose life had now been absurdly screwed-up because of _his_ return, and yet whose very life _he_ was unmistakably _jealous_ of. The night was already taking a downward turn…_Grr-eat!_

"Lois isn't here," Richard said after a moment of silence. Clark tried to look surprised by his observation, but Richard only arched an 'oh, _please_' eyebrow. "You've been searching the crowd like a hawk since you got here, Kent. You only look like that when you're looking for _her_."

The wine in Clark's throat almost stuck to the walls, and he fought to swallow it. "You – uh…noticed?" In the back of his mind, he imagined that a comical red neon 'WARNING!' sign was flashing above his head.

"I noticed," Richard said simply. He held Clark's gaze.

Before anything else was said, Richards's attention was drawn to the front of the room. Clark followed his stare…and then bottom of his stomach fell completely out.

Lois stood at the top of the marble staircase – her hair was caught up on top of her head in a pile of luscious curls. Her lips were painted the same shade of rich red as the amazing dress she wore. The neckline plunged to a delicious V, exposing a generous amount of creamy skin, the swell of her breasts inviting the eye lower.

Clark's mouth went dry. As he watched her descend the steps – the slit in the side of the dress arcing up her thigh and giving him wonderful glimpses of her sculpted leg (and beyond) – a ball of heat started to swell somewhere below his stomach. It began to radiate outward, and his heart rate jumped to an abnormal velocity.

_Oh, God!_ He'd never seen Lois look more alluring… or sensual. The gentlemanly part of him tried to pry his eyes away from the silky expanse of skin at her chest, but the _man_ in him won out. He literally couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Wow," Richard stated, a wistful smile at his lips. "She always did look incredible in that dress."

Clark numbly nodded, clutching the wine glass for dear life. Richard, at some point, had moved away to go say 'hello'. As Lois stopped at the foot of the stairs, she paused and bent low to adjust the strap on her heels.

Clark's eyes widened in arousal as he was afforded a delectable view down the front of her dress. Visions of satin, silver sheets and bodies flushed with passion and sweat raced across his mind.

And the glass in his hand shattered into a million pieces.

--------------------------

_Stupid sadistic bastard who invented heels. I'd love to drop kick his a-_

Lois straightened and ran a hand down her dress. The diamond clips on her ears were already bugging her, and she was absolutely sure that the dress had shrunk at some point in time. She tugged on the shoulder-straps. _Not that it will help…I'm hanging out in CLEAV-land here…_

But, she had to admit, the dress was made for her. It brought a welcome boost to her ego to see the stares and appraising looks she'd garnered upon her entrance.

Richard made his way toward her and Lois froze. _Good God. He looks wonderful!_ Her heart tugged in her chest, and she willed it to stop. Pining after what was obviously doomed didn't do anyone any good…

He leaned in, like he had done for years, and kissed her chastely on the cheek. "You look beautiful," he murmured. He gave her a smile that spoke volumes about their past, and walked away.

Lois followed him with the eyes for a moment, holding her breath. She did it. She made it though seeing Richard looking gorgeous, was able to risk a greeting – and the world didn't end. After the fumbled parting at the house, she hadn't been sure she could take seeing him again. _Well, that's_ something… _at least._

Lois snagged a glass of wine from a passing tray and downed most of it in one gulp. Steeling herself, she moved out into the crowd. The band had begun Norah Jones' "Come Away with Me" – as the soft guitar and piano filled the room, the crowds parted, and Lois caught sight of a very well-dressed, _very handsome_ Clark Kent, standing on the opposite side of the dance floor.

_Dammit! He looks…he looks…I can't deal with this! Damn him for looking like that!_ Lois averted her eyes quickly, even though her stomach had done a 360 degree spin. She could feel him staring at her, willing her with his mind to come to him – to say anything to him…

_Nope! I'm done fretting over this, I'm here to have a good time, so dammit-to-hell, I'm going to! _

"Hey Phil, wanna dance?" Lois snatched the arm of Phil, the _Planet's_ fashion reporter and pulled him out onto the floor. The young fashion artist, with his chicly shaved head and earring, only managed a "Wha–?" before Lois had his arms around her and started awkwardly swaying to the music.

"And stay off the feet," she muttered to him. He nodded nervously.

With each turn, she made a conscious effort not to sneak a glance at Clark. So she busied herself with inspecting the crowd. _Everybody who's anybody is here tonight. _In a corner, surrounded by half-a-dozen people, Lois spied the young CEO and host for the evening, Lucius Darius.

He was the epitome of style and grace, and to be perfectly honest… quite the _hunk_. Lois wondered idly where he'd found the busty, leggy, bleach-blonde bombshell that passed for his _date_.

_Probably paid a pretty penny for her. _Another turn and Lois kept her eyes away from the vicinity of Clark, when Phil nudged her.

"Dolce and Gabanna, Gianni Versace – eat your hearts out!" Phil smiled in awe.

Lois turned and saw who she could only assume was the _Daedalus Corp_. matriarch, Margaret DeGalle. Fashionably late, she was a knockout – her dark Mediterranean skin complimented by the sapphire dress that looked like it was poured over her body. Phil informed Lois that most small countries don't have enough money in their entire treasury for a dress like that.

She descended the stairs like a Queen entering her throne room, and was treated accordingly by the Metropolis elite. Lois suddenly became very curious as she saw several high ranking Lex Corp associates immediately surround Ms. DeGalle, with something very obviously important to talk about. Lois noticed that Darius was subtly ushered toward her, and looked very anxious to talk to her.

_I wonder what that is all about,_ Lois saw the discussion becoming heated between Darius and Margaret. It was as if he was accusing her of something, and she was being nothing but condescending. And the Lex Corp employees suddenly looked _very_ nervous.

"You want to know what they're talking about, don't you?" Phil chuckled.

"You know it. But, getting an interview with Margaret DeGalle is like trying to interview God. Can't be done, she eats reporters for breakfast."

Phil spun her out, and pulled her back to him as the song switched to a faster tempo jazz number. "I say go for the playboy. Young Darius is quite the ladies' man."

Lois steadied herself after the spin, "What – you want me to waltz past him, wink and show a little leg? Have you _seen_ the Chesty McBoobs on his arm?"

He laughed. "Oh, girl…_c'mon_! I know you've worked those womanly wiles of yours to your benefit before! And in _that_ dress," he startled her by giving Lois a good smack on the ass for emphasis, "With this bod, you'll get his attention! I promise. You got _it_ girl," he dipped her, "Work _it_!"

Lois faked a smile, but gave his wrist a sharp twist. Phil managed not to yelp, but quickly moved his hand from her rear. Lois initiated another turn that sent her dress whirling, making the slit in the side creep further up her leg.

"Okay, Phil. I'll play it your way. But if you touch my ass again, I'll break your arm."

---------------------

Clark had, of course, heard everything that had been said between Lois and Phil. Ironically, he _could_ have listened in on Darius and DeGalle's little spat – but he was completely preoccupied.

He couldn't help it. He might have super powers, but the male libido was a force to be reckoned with. And watching Lois' body move and undulate under the thin fabric of that dress, the flashes of skin, and the slight flush that was starting to show at her cheeks and neck from dancing was driving him utterly mad!

_Easy boy, get a grip on yourself, Clark. You're acting like an eighteen year old!_ Lois made a sliding move across Phil's body that reminded Clark of certain things he'd only dreamed of lately, and he had to grab onto the nearest chair.

_Geez, Clark! C'mon, she's doing this for a story! You've seen her do some pretty outrageous things for a story. Just… not…in that dress. And not when she knows everything about you… _Phil was playing his part a little too well for Clark's liking. And when he ran his hand down Lois' side after spinning her out toward where Darius was standing with his friends, Clark knew that Lois might not be the one breaking his arm.

He pushed that thought down immediately. This wasn't his normal behavior, but nothing in his life had been 'normal' lately. Clark noticed that Lois' little exhibition of dancing prowess was working. Several of men in Darius' circle had taken notice…including Darius. Ms. DeGalle had moved on to other conversations, but he caught her watching Lois. Then, as she seemed to be watching Darius reaction to Lois… she smiled.

That made Clark a little nervous. Before he could focus his hearing on her side of the room, the music climaxed, and he noticed that Lois and Phil weren't the only ones making the most of the seductive music. Several couples had followed their example, and the dance floor was fast becoming a mass of undulating bodies. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the music, and Phil had switched their routine to almost Salsa-style moves.

Clark followed her body, every twist and turn – his body heat rising and the memories of their time together in the Fortress warring with the reasonable side of his brain. Suddenly, in a flourish ending, Lois kicked her leg up and around Phil's as he dipped her low. A memory of her leg wrapped around his torso, a similar flush on her body and the feeling of total ecstasy took over Clark's poor mind.

A sickening _'crack!'_ – Clark opened his eyes and looked down at the pieces of the chair in his hands. He'd torn the back completely off! _Oh, crap! Crap, crap, crap…!_

He glanced up from fumbling the pieces under the table to hide them. No one seemed to notice, the music was too loud. But he caught Lois' eye – she had seen it!

Looking over Phil's shoulder she stared in shock at him. Knowing his secret now, Clark felt oddly reassured that he wouldn't have to make up some excuse, but he could also feel the blush flaming his cheeks getting worse. Lois gave him a look that told him she knew what had caused his little accident. And Clark could have sworn the renewed red in _her_ cheeks was from shared embarrassment.

_I doubt she's dealing with the same visions I am, though._ He took a few steadying breaths, deciding he needed to make the first move. Clark was tired of all this avoidance and side-long glances. He was tired of playing the meek country boy. She knew the _truth_ now – it wasn't just a dream whispering in his mind anymore.

It was time to start acting like the _real_ Clark Kent.

----------------------

_Geez, Clark! Don't be obvious or anything!_ Lois couldn't believe the display of raw power (tiny as it was) when she saw Clark rip the back of the chair apart. And if she was honest with herself, she knew what had happened. She might not have the memories of her intimacy with Clark, but she could guess fairly well what it would have been like.

She swallowed as the music slowed again, and another Norah Jones song started – "The Nearness of You." _Ironic_. Her nearness to Clark, the dancing… it had to have been wreaking havoc on him. _He is a guy, after all…_

Her little show had paid off, Darius had all but forgotten Miss McBoobs (and the woman wasn't happy about it). He smiled at Lois and she returned it. Now what? She worked for this plan, but now... she wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. _Hello Mr. Darius, I love your party! By the way, what business do you have with Lex Corp's senior research and development gurus?_

Lois sighed and listened to the music for a moment. Guilt kicked her right in the chest cavity. I shouldn't have done this right in front Clark. It was mean… teasing… _he doesn't deserve that_.

A tiny, malicious voice in her head said that maybe he _did_. He'd lied and misled her for a long time. It wouldn't hurt to exact a little feminine revenge on him.

_It's still not right…_but Lois had to smile a little at the malicious voice though. It _had_ been fun.

"Excuse me." A deep male voice brought her back to reality. Lois and Phil stopped dancing and turned. "May I cut in?"

Lois gaped, staring incredulously up at him. _Oh, no! No, no, no…don't screw this up, Clark, it could be a big story! Lex Corp connected to Daedalus! Just leave me alone for the evening! I can't be this close to you, it'll ruin everything!_

Phil took one look at the way he locked eyes with Lois, and moved aside graciously.

And Clark suavely slid one strong, muscular arm around her waist and pulled her to him, flush against his front in one graceful move.

"Clark!?" Lois hissed and pushed against him. _I could just _hate_ you right now, you know..._

_**TBC….**_

* * *

Evil? Why yes...I know! Do I really want your feedback though? _**YES**_! So feed the Author's Need and **REVIEW**! With a little help from one of my Super!Betas (**Sean Montgomry**), I should be able to get Ch 13 out faster! Yeah, I know...you'll only believe it when you see it.

Stay Tuned!


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